CHILDREN 

9F™?KING 

BY 

PMARION 
CRAWFORD 


THE 


CHILDREN  OF  THE  KING 


A  TALE  OF  SOUTHERN  ITALY 


BY 

F.   MARION    CRAWFORD 

AUTHOR  OF   "MR.   ISAACS,"   "DR.  CLAUDIUS,"   "  SARACINESCA,"   ETC. 


STefo  gorfc 
MACMILLAN    AND    CO. 

AND     LONDON 

1893 

All  rights  reserved 


< 


COPYRIGHT,  1892, 
BY  MACMILLAN  AND  CO. 


TYPOGRAPHY  BY  J.  S.  GUSHING  &  Co.,  BOSTON,  U.S.A. 
PRESSWORK  BY  BERWICK  &  SMITH,  BOSTON,  U.S.A. 


TO 
THE  MIDDY,  THE  LADDIE,  THE  MATE 

AND    THE    MEN 

THE    SKIPPER    OF    THE    OLD    LEONE 
DEDICATES 

THIS    STORY 


M130927 


CHILDREN  OF  THE  KING. 


CHAPTER   I. 

LAY  your  course  south-east  half  east  from  the 
Campanella.  If  the  weather  is  what  it  should 
be  in  late  summer  you  will  have  a  fresh  breeze 
on  the  starboard  quarter  from  ten  in  the  morn 
ing  till  four  or  five  o'clock  in  the  afternoon. 
Sail  straight  across  the  wide  gulf  of  Salerno, 
and  when  you  are  over  give  the  Licosa  Point  a 
wide  berth,  for  the  water  is  shallow  and  there 
are  reefs  along  shore.  Moreover  there  is  no 
light  on  Licosa  Point,  and  many  a  good  ship 
has  gone  to  pieces  there  in  dark  winter  nights 
when  the  surf  is  rolling  in.  If  the  wind  holds 
you  may  run  on  to  Palinuro  in  a  long  day 
before  the  evening  calm  comes  on,  and  the 
water  turns  oily  and  full  of  pink  and  green 
and  violet  streaks,  and  the  sun  settles  down  in 
the  north-west.  Then  the  big  sails  will  hang 

i 


OF    THE    KING. 


like  curtains  from  the  long  slanting  yards,  the 
slack  sheets  will  dip  down  to  the  water,  the 
rudder  will  knock  softly  against  the  stern-post 
as  the  gentle  swell  subsides.  Then  all  is  of  a 
golden  orange  colour,  then  red  as  wine,  then 
purple  as  grapes,  then  violet,  then  grey,  then 
altogether  shadowy  as  the  stars  come  out  — 
unless  it  chances  that  the  moon  is  not  yet  full, 
and  edges  everything  with  silver  on  your  left 
hand  while  the  sunset  dyes  fade  slowly  to  dark 
ness  upon  your  right. 

Then  the  men  forward  will  bestir  themselves 
and  presently  a  red  glow  rises  and  flickers  and 
paints  what  it  touches,  with  its  own  colours. 
The  dry  wood  crackles  and  flares  on  the  brick 
and  mortar  hearth,  and  the  great  kettle  is  put 
on.  Presently  the  water  boils  —  in  go  the  long 
bundles  of  fine-drawn  paste,  and  everybody  col 
lects  forward  to  watch  the  important  operation. 
Stir  it  quickly  at  first.  Let  it  boil  till  a  bit  of 
it  is  tender  under  the  teeth.  In  with  the  coarse 
salt,  and  stir  again.  Up  with  kettle.  Chill  it 
with  a  quart  of  cold  water  from  the  keg.  A 
hand  with  the  colander  and  one  with  the  wooden 
spoon  while  the  milky  boiling  water  is  drained 


CHILDREN    OF    THE    KING.  3 

off.  Garlic  and  oil,  or  tomato  preserve  ?  Which 
ever  it  is,  be  quick  about  it.  And  so  to  supper, 
with  huge  hard  biscuit  and  stony  cheese,  and 
the  full  wine  jug  passed  from  mouth  to  mouth. 
To  every  man  a  fork  and  to  every  man  his  place 
within  arm's  length  of  the  great  basin — mottled 
green  and  white  within,  red  brown  and  unglazed 
on  the  outside.  But  the  man  at  the  helm  has 
an  earthen  plate,  and  the  jug  is  passed  aft  to 
him  from  time  to  time. 

Not  that  he  has  much  to  do  as  he  lies  there  on 
his  six-foot  deck  that  narrows  away  so  sharply 
to  the  stern.  He  has  taken  a  hitch  round  the 
heavy  tiller  with  the  slack  of  the  main  sheet  to 
keep  it  off  the  side  of  his  head  while  he  eats. 
There  is  no  current,  and  there  is  not  a  breath  of 
air.  By  and  by,  before  midnight,  you  will  smell 
the  soft  land  breeze  blowing  in  puffs  out  of  every 
little  bay  and  indentation.  There  is  no  order 
needed.  The  men  silently  brace  the  yards  and 
change  the  sheets  over.  The  small  jib  is  already 
bent  in  place  of  the  big  one,  for  the  night  is 
dark  and  some  of  those  smart  puffs  will  soon 
be  like  little  squalls.  Full  and  by.  Hug  the 
land,  for  there  are  no  more  reefs  before  Scalea. 


4  CHILDREN    OF    THE    KING. 

If  you  do  not  get  aground  on  what  you  can  see 
in  Calabria,  you  will  not  get  aground  at  all, 
says  the  old  proverb.  Briskly  over  two  or 
three  miles  to  the  next  point,  and  the  breeze 
is  gone  again.  While  she  is  still  forging  ahead 
out  go  the  sweeps,  six  or  eight  of  them,  and 
the  men  throw  themselves  forward  over  the 
long  slender  loom,  as  they  stand.  Half  an 
hour  to  row,  or  more  perhaps.  Down  helm, 
as  you  meet  the  next  puff,  and  the  good  felucca 
heels  over  a  little.  And  so  through  the  night, 
the  breeze  freshening  before  the  rising  sun  to 
die  away  in  the  first  hot  morning  hours,  just 
as  you  are  abreast  of  Camerota.  L'Infresco 
Point  is  ahead,  not  three  miles  away.  It  is  of  no 
use  to  row,  for  the  breeze  will  come  up  before 
long  and  save  you  the  trouble.  But  the  sea 
is  white  and  motionless.  Far  in  the  offing  a 
Sicilian  schooner  and  a  couple  of  clumsy  "mar- 
tinganes"  —  there  is  no  proper  English  name 
for  the  craft  —  are  lying  becalmed,  with  hang 
ing  sails.  The  men  on  board  the  felucca  watch 
them  and  the  sea.  There  is  a  shadow  on  the 
white,  hazy  horizon,  then  a  streak,  then  a  broad 
dark  blue  band.  The  schooner  braces  her  top- 


CHILDBED    OF    THE    KING.  5 

sail  yard  and  gets  her  main  sheet  aft.  The 
martinganes  flatten  in  their  jibs  along  their 
high  steeving  bowsprits  and  jib-booms.  Shift 
your  sheets,  too,  now,  for  the  wind  is  coming. 
Past  L'Infresco  with  its  lovely  harbour  of  refuge, 
lonely  as  a  bay  in  a  desert  island,  its  silent 
shade  and  its  ancient  spring.  The  wind  is 
south  by  west  at  first,  but  it  will  go  round  in 
an  hour  or  two,  and  before  noon,  you  will  make 
Scalea  —  stand  out  for  the  reef,  the  only  one 
in  Calabria  —  with  a  stern  breeze.  You  have 
passed  the  most  beautiful  spot  on  the  beautiful 
Italian  coast,  without  seeing  it.  There,  between 
the  island  of  Dino  and  the  cape  lies  San  Nicola, 
with  its  grand  deserted  tower,  its  mighty  cliffs, 
its  deep,  safe  bay  and  its  velvet  sand.  What 
matter  ?  The  wind  is  fair  and  you  are  for 
Calabria  with  twenty  tons  of  macaroni  from 
Amalfi.  There  is  no  time  to  be  lost,  either,  for 
you  will  probably  come  home  in  ballast.  Past 
Scalea,  then,  where  tradition  says  that  Judas 
Iscariot  was  born  and  bred  and  did  his  first 
murder.  Right  ahead  is  the  sharp  point  of  the 
Diamante,  beyond  that  low  shore  where  the  cane 
brake  grows  to  within  fifty  yards  of  the  sea. 


D  CHILDREN    OF    THE    KING. 

Now  you  have  run  past  the  little  cape,  and  are 
abreast  of  the  beach.  Down  mainsail — down 
jib — down  foresail.  Let  go  the  anchor  while 
she  forges,  eight  to  nine  lengths  from  the  land, 
and  let  her  swing  round,  stern  to  the  sand. 
Clear  away  the  dingy  and  launch  her  from 
amidships,  and  send  a  line  ashore.  Overboard 
with  everything  now,  for  beaching,  capstan, 
chocks  and  all  —  the  swell  will  wash  them  in. 
As  the  keel  grates  on  the  pebbles,  the  men  jump 
into  the  water  from  the  high  stern  and  catch 
the  drifting  wood.  Some  plant  the  capstan, 
others  pass  the  long  hemp  cable  and  reeve  it 
through  the  fiddle  block.  A  hand  forward  to 
slack  out  the  cable  as  the  heavy  boat  slowly 
creeps  up  out  of  the  water.  The  men  from 
other  craft,  already  beached,  lend  a  hand  too 
and  a  score  of  stout  fellows  breast  the  long  oars 
which  serve  for  capstan  bars.  A  little  higher 
still.  Now  prop  her  securely  and  make  all  snug 
and  ship-shape,  and  make  fast  the  blade  of  an 
oar  to  one  of  the  forward  tholes,  with  the  loom 
on  the  ground,  for  a  ladder.  You  are  safe  in 
Calabria. 

To-morrow  at  early  dawn  you  must  go  into 


CHILDREN    OF    THE    KING.  7 

the  hills,  for  you  cannot  sell  a  tenth  of  your 
cargo  in  the  little  village.  Away  you  trudge 
on  foot,  across  the  rocky  point,  along  the  low 
flat  beach  by  the  cane  brake,  up  the  bed  of 
the  rivulet,  where  the  wet  green  blades  of  the 
canes  brush  your  face  at  every  step.  Shoes  and 
stockings  in  hand  you  ford  the  shallow  river, 
then,  shod  again,  you  begin  the  long  ascent. 
You  will  need  four  good  hours,  or  five,  for  you 
are  not  a  landsman,  your  shoes  hurt  you,  and 
you  would  rather  reef  top-sails  —  aye,  and  take 
the  lee  earing,  too,  in  any  gale  and  a  score  of 
times,  than  breast  that  mountain.  It  cannot  be 
helped.  It  is  a  hard  life,  though  there  are  lazy 
days  in  the  summer  months,  when  the  wind  will 
do  your  work  for  you.  You  must  live,  and  earn 
your  share ;  though  they  call  you  the  master, 
neither  boat  nor  cargo  are  yours,  and  you  have 
to  earn  that  share  by  harder  work  and  with 
greater  anxiety  than  the  rest.  But  the  world 
is  green  to-day.  You  remember  a  certain  night 
last  March  —  off  Cape  Orso  in  the  gulf,  when 
the  wind  they  call  the  Punti  di  Salerno  was 
raging  down  and  you  had  a  jib  bent  for  a 
mainsail,  and  your  foresail  close  reefed  and  were 


8  CHILDREN    OF    THE    KING. 

shipping  more  green  water  than  you  like  to 
think  of.  Pitch  dark,  too,  and  the  little  light 
house  on  the  cape  not  doing  its  best,  as  it 
seemed.  The  long  line  of  the  Salerno  lights 
on  the  weather  bow.  No  getting  there,  either, 
and  no  getting  anywhere  else  apparently.  Then 
you  tried  your  luck.  Amalfi  might  not  be 
blowing.  It  was  no  joke  to  go  about  just  then, 
but  you  managed  it  somehow,  because  you  had 
half  a  dozen  brave  fellows  with  you.  As  she 
came  up  she  was  near  missing  stays  and  you 
sang  out  to  let  go  the  main  halyards.  The 
yard  came  down  close  by  your  head  and  nearly 
killed  you,  but  she  paid-off  all  right  and  went 
over  on  the  starboard  tack.  Just  under  the 
cape  the  water  was  smooth.  Just  beyond  it  the 
devil  was  loose  with  all  his  angels,  for  Amalfi 
was  blowing  its  own  little  hurricane  on  its  own 
account  from  another  quarter.  Nothing  for  it 
but  to  go  about  and  try  Salerno  again.  What 
could  you  do  in  an  open  felucca  with  the  green 
water  running  over  ?  You  did  your  best.  Five 
hours  out  of  that  pitch  black  night  you  beat  up, 
first  trying  one  harbour  and  then  the  other. 
Amalfi  gave  in  first,  just  as  the  waning  moon 


CHILDREN    OF    THE    KING.  9 

rose,    and    you    got   under   the   breakwater   at 
last. 

You  remember  that  last  of  your  many  narrow 
escapes  to-day  as  you  trudge  up  the  stony  mule- 
track  through  the  green  valleys,  and  it  strikes 
you  that  after  all  it  is  easier  to  walk  from 
Diamante  all  the  way  to  Verbicaro,  than  to  face 
a  March  storm  in  the  gulf  of  Salerno  in  an  open 
boat  on  a  dark  night.  Up  you  go,  past  that 
strange  ruin  of  the  great  Norman-Saracen  castle 
standing  alone  on  the  steep  little  hill  which  rises 
out  of  the  middle  of  the  valley,  commanding 
the  roads  on  the  right  and  the  left.  You  have 
heard  of  the  Saracens  but  not  of  the  Normans. 
What  kind-  of  people  lived  there  amongst  those 
bristling  ivy-grown  towers  ?  Thieves  of  course. 
Were  they  not  Saracens  and  therefore  Turks, 
according  to  your  ethnology,  and  therefore  brig 
ands  ?  It  is  odd  that  the  government  should 
have  allowed  them  to  build  a  castle  just  there. 
Perhaps  they  were  stronger  than  the  govern 
ment.  You  have  never  heard  of  Count  Roger, 
either,  though  you  know  the  story  of  Judas 
Iscariot  by  heart  as  you  have  heard  it  told 
many  a  time  in  Scalea.  Up  you  go,  leaving  the 


10  CHILDREN    OF    THE    KING. 

castle  behind  you,  up  to  that  square  house  they 
call  the  tower  on  the  brow  of  the  hill.  It  is  a 
lonely  road,  a  mere  sheep  track  over  the  heights. 
You  are  over  it  at  last,  and  that  is  Verbicaro, 
over  there  on  the  other  side  of  the  great  valley, 
perched  against  the  mountain  side,  a  rough,  grey 
mass  of  red-roofed  houses  cropping  up  like  red- 
tipped  rocks  out  of  a  vast,  sloping  vineyard. 
And  now  there  are  people  on  the  road,  slender, 
barefooted,  brown  women  in  dark  wine-coloured 
woollen  skirts  and  scarlet  cloth  bodices  much 
the  worse  for  wear,  treading  lightly  under  half- 
a-quintal  weight  of  grapes  ;  well-to-do  peasant 
men  —  galantuomini,  they  are  all  called  in 
Calabria  —  driving  laden  mules  before  them, 
their  dark  blue  jackets  flung  upon  one  shoulder, 
their  white  stockings  remarkably  white,  their 
short  home-spun  breeches  far  from  ragged,  as  a 
rule,  but  their  queer  little  pointed  hats  mostly 
colourless  and  weather-beaten.  Boys  and  girls, 
too,  meet  you  and  stare  at  you,  or  overtake  you 
at  a  great  pace  and  almost  run  past  you,  with 
an  enquiring  backward  glance,  each  carrying 
something — mostly  grapes  or  figs.  Out  at  last, 
by  the  little  chapel,  upon  what  is  the  beginning 


CHILDREN    OF    THE    KING.  11 

of  an  inland  carriage  road  —  in  a  land  where 
even  the  one-wheeled  wheelbarrow  has  never 
been  seen.  The  grass  grows  thick  among  the 
broken  stones,  and  men  and  beasts  have  made  a 
narrow  beaten  track  along  the  extreme  outside 
edge  of  the  precipice.  The  new  bridge  which 
was  standing  in  all  its  spick  and  span  newness 
when  you  came  last  year,  is  a  ruin  now,  washed 
away  by  the  spring  freshets.  A  glance  tells 
you  that  the  massive-looking  piers  were  hollow, 
built  of  one  thickness  of  stone,  shell-fashion, 
and  filled  with  plain  earth.  Somebody  must 
have  cheated.  Nothing  new  in  that.  They 
are  all  thieves  nowadays,  seeking  to  eat,  as  you 
say  in  your  dialect,  with  a  strict  simplicity 
which  leaves  nothing  to  the  imagination.  At 
all  events  this  bridge  was  a  fraud,  and  the  peas 
ants  clamber  down  a  steep  footpath  they  have 
made  through  its  ruins,  and  up  the  other  side. 

And  now  you  are  in  the  town.  The  streets 
are  paved,  but  Verbicaro  is  not  Naples,  not 
Salerno,  not  even  Amalfi.  The  pavement  is  of 
the  roughest  cobble  stones,  and  the  pigs  are  the 
scavengers.  Pigs  everywhere,  in  the  streets,  in 
the  houses,  at  the  windows,  on  the  steps  of  the 


12  CHILDREN    OF    THE    KING. 

church  in  the  market-place,  to  right  and  left, 
hefore  you  and  behind  you — like  the  guns  at 
Balaclava.  You  never  heard  of  the  Six  Hun 
dred,  though  your  father  was  boatswain  of  a 
Palermo  grain  bark  and  lay  three  months  in  the 
harbour  of  Sebastapol  during  the  fighting. 

Pigs  everywhere,  black,  grunting  and  happy. 
Red-skirted,  scarlet-bodiced  women  everywhere, 
too,  all  moving  and  carrying  something.  Galan- 
tuomini  loafing  at  most  of  the  corners,  smoking 
clay  pipes  with  cane  stems,  and  the  great  Jew 
shopkeeper's  nose  just  visible  from  a  distance  as 
he  stands  in  the  door  of  his  dingy  den.  Dirtier 
and  dirtier  grow  the  cobble  stones  as  you  go  on. 
Brighter  and  brighter  the  huge  bunches  of  red 
peppers  fastened  by  every  window,  thicker  and 
thicker  on  the  upper  walls  and  shaky  balconies 
the  black  melons  and  yellowish  grey  cantelopes 
hung  up  to  keep  in  the  high  fresh  air,  each  slung 
in  a  hitch  of  yarn  to  a  nail  of  its  own. 

Here  and  there  some  one  greets  you.  What 
have  you  to  sell  ?  Will  you  take  a  cargo  of 
pears  ?  Good  this  year,  like  all  the  fruit.  The 
figs  and  grapes  will  not  be  dry  for  another 
month.  They  nod  and  move  on,  as  you  pass  by 


CHILDREN    OF    THE    KING.  13 

them.  Verbicaro  is  a  commercial  centre,  in 
spite  of  the  pigs.  A  tall,  thin  priest  meets  you, 
with  a  long  black  cigar  in  his  mouth.  When  he 
catches  your  eye  he  takes  it  from  between  his 
teeth  and  knocks  the  ash  off,  seeing  that  you 
are  a  stranger.  Perhaps  it  is  not  very  clerical 
to  smoke  in  the  streets.  But  who  cares  ?  This 
is  Verbicaro  —  and  besides,  it  is  not  a  pipe. 
Monks  smoke  pipes.  Priests  smoke  cigars. 

One  more  turn  down  a  narrow  lane  —  darkest 
and  dirtiest  of  all  the  lanes,  the  cobble  stones 
only  showing  here  and  there  above  the  universal 
black  puddle.  Yet  the  air  is  not  foul  and  many 
a  broad  street  by  the  Basso  Porto  in  Naples 
smells  far  worse.  The  keen  high  atmosphere  of 
the  Calabrian  mountains  is  a  mighty  purifier 
of  nastiness,  and  perhaps  the  pig  is  not  to  be 
despised  after  all,  as  sanitary  engineer,  scavenger 
and  street  sweeper. 

This  is  Don  Pietro  Casale's  house,  the  last  on 
the  right,  with  the  steep  staircase  running  up 
outside  the  building  to  the  second  story.  And 
the  staircase  has  an  iron  railing,  and  so  narrows 
the  lane  that  a  broad  shouldered  man  can  just 
go  by  to  the  cabbage  garden  beyond  without 


14  CHILDREN    OF    THE    KING. 

turning  sideways.  On  the  landing  at  the  top, 
outside  the  closed  door  and  waiting  for  visitors, 
sits  the  pig  —  a  pig  larger,  better  fed  and  by 
one  shade  of  filthiness  cleaner  than  other  pigs. 
Don  Pietro  Casale  has  been  seen  to  sweep  his 
pig  with  a  broken  willow  broom,  after  it  has 
rained. 

"Do  you  take  him  for  a  Christian?"  asked 
his  neighbour,  in  amazement,  on  the  occasion. 

"No,"  answered  Don  Pietro  gravely.  "  He  is 
certainly  not  a  Christian.  But  why  should  he 
spoil  the  tablecloth  with  his  muddy  hog's  back 
when  my  guests  are  at  their  meals  ?  He  is 
always  running  under  the  table  for  the  scraps." 

"  And  what  are  women  for,  except  to  wash 
tablecloths?"  inquired  the  neighbour  contempt 
uously. 

But  he  got  no  answer.  Few  people  ever  get 
more  than  one  from  Don  Pietro  Casale,  whose 
eldest  son  is  doing  well  at  Buenos  Ayres,  and 
in  whose  house  the  postmaster  takes  his  meals 
now  that  he  is  a  widower. 

For  Don  Pietro  and  his  wife  Donna  Concetta 
sell  their  own  wine  and  keep  a  cook-shop,  besides 
a  guest-room  with  a  garret  above  it,  and  two 


CHILDREN    OF    THE    KING.  15 

beds,  with  an  old-fashioned  store  of  good  linen 
in  old-fashioned  iron-bound  chests.  At  the  time 
of  the  fair  they  can  put  up  a  dozen  or  fourteen 
guests.  People  say  indeed  that  the  place  is  not 
so  well  managed,  nor  the  cooking  so  good  since 
poor  Carmela  died,  the  widow  of  Ruggiero  dei 
Figli  del  Re  —  Roger  of  the  Children  of  the 
King. 

For  this  is  the  place  where  the  Children  of 
the  King  lived  and  died  for  many  generations, 
and  this  house  of  Don  Pietro  Casale  was  theirs, 
and  the  one  on  the  other  side  of  the  cabbage 
garden,  a  smaller  and  poorer  one,  in  which  Car 
mela  died.  The  garden  itself  was  once  theirs, 
and  the  vineyard  beyond,  and  the  olive  grove 
beyond  that,  and  much  good  land  in  the  valley. 
For  they  were  galantuomini,  and  even  thought 
themselves  something  better,  and  sometimes, 
when  the  wine  was  new,  they  talked  of  noble 
blood  and  said  that  their  first  ancestor  had 
indeed  been  a  son  of  a  king  who  had  given 
him  all  Yerbicaro  for  his  own.  True  it  is,  at 
least,  that  they  had  no  other  name.  Through 
generation  after  generation  they  were  christened 
Ruggiero,  Guglielmo,  and  Sebastiano  "  of  the 


16  CHILDREN    OF    THE    KING. 

Children  of  the  King."  Thus  they  had  anciently 
appeared  in  the  ill-kept  parish  registers,  and 
thus  was  Ruggiero  inscribed  for  the  conscription 
under  the  new  law. 

And  now,  as  you  know,  gaunt,  weather-beaten 
Luigione,  licensed  master  in  the  coast  trade  and 
just  now  captain  of  the  Sorrentine  felucca  Gio- 
vannina,  from  Amalfi  to  Diamante  with  macaroni, 
there  are  no  more  of  the  Children  of  the  King  in 
old  Verbicaro,  and  their  goods  have  fallen  into 
divers  hands,  but  chiefly  into  those  very  grasp 
ing  and  close-holding  ones  of  Don  Pietro  Casale 
and  his  wife.  But  they  are  not  all  dead  by  any 
means,  as  you  know  also  and  you  have  even 
lately  seen  and  talked  with  one  of  the  fair- 
haired  fellows,  who  bears  the  name. 

For  the  Children  of  the  King  have  almost 
always  had  yellow  hair  and  blue  eyes,  though 
they  have  more  than  once  taken  to  themselves 
black-browed,  brown-skinned  Calabrian  girls  as 
wives.  And  this  makes  one,  who  knows  some 
thing  more  about  your  country  than  you  do, 
Luigione  —  though  in  a  less  practical  way  I  con 
fess  —  this  makes  one  think  that  they  may  be 
the  modern  descendants  of  some  Norman  knight- 


CHILDREN    OF    THE    KING.  17 

ling  who  took  Verbicaro  for  himself  one  morning 
in  the  old  days,  and  kept  it ;  or  perhaps  even 
the  far-off  progeny  of  one  of  those  bright-eyed, 
golden-locked  Goths  who  made  slaves  of  the 
degenerate  Latins  some  thirteen  centuries  ago 
or  more,  and  treated  their  serfs  indeed  more  like 
cattle  than  slaves  until  almost  the  last  of  them 
were  driven  into  the  sea  with  their  King  Teias 
by  Narses.  But  a  few  were  left  in  the  southern 
fastnesses  and  in  the  Samnite  hills,  and  north 
ward  through  the  Apennines,  scattered  here  and 
there  where  they  had  been  able  to  hold  their 
own ;  and  some,  it  is  said,  forgot  Theodoric  and 
Witiges  and  Totila  and  Teias,  and  took  service 
in  the  Imperial  Guard  at  Constantinople,  as 
Harold  of  Norway  and  some  of  our  own  hard- 
fisted  sailor  fathers  did  in  later  years. 

Be  that  as  it  may  —  and  no  one  knows  how  it 
was  —  the  Children  of  the  King  have  yellow 
hair  and  blue  eyes  to  this  present  time,  and  no 
one  would  take  them  for  Calabrians,  nor  for 
Sicilians,  still  less  for  monkey-limbed,  hang-dog 
mouthed,  lying,  lubberly  Neapolitans  who  can 
neither  hand,  reef  nor  steer,  nor  tell  you  the 
difference  between  a  bowline  and  a  buntling, 


18  CHILDREN    OF    THE    KING. 

though  you  may  show  them  a  dozen  times,  nor 
indeed  can  do  anything  but  steal  and  blaspheme 
and  be  the  foulest,  filthiest  crew  that  Captain 
Satan  ever  shipped  for  the  Long  Voyage.  Not 
fit  to  slush  down  the  mast  of  a  collier,  the  best 
of  them. 

It  must  be  a  dozen  years  since  Carmela  died 
in  that  little  house  beyond  the  cabbage  garden. 
It  was  a  glorious  night  in  September  —  a  strange 
night  in  some  ways,  and  not  like  other  nights 
<§ne  remembers,  for  the  full  moon  had  risen  over 
the  hills  to  the  left,  filling  the  world  with  a  trans 
parent  vapour  of  silver,  so  clear  and  so  bright 
that  the  very  light  seemed  good  to  breathe  as  it 
is  good  to  drink  crystal  water  from  a  spring. 
Verbicaro  was  all  asleep  behind  Don  Pietro 
Casale's  house,  and  in  front,  from  the  terrace 
before  the  guest-room,  one  could  see  the  great 
valley  far  below  beyond  the  cabbages,  deep  and 
mysterious,  with  silver-dashed  shadows  and 
sudden  blacknesses,  and  bright  points  of  white 
where  the  moon's  rays  fell  upon  a  solitary  hut. 
And  on  the  other  side  of  the  valley,  above 
Grisolia,  a  great  round-topped  mountain  and  on 
the  top  of  the  mountain  an  enormous  globe  of 


CHILDREN    OF    THE    KING.  19 

cloud,  full  of  lightning  that  flashed  unceasingly, 
so  that  the  cloud  was  at  one  instant  like  a  ball 
of  silver  in  the  moonlight,  and  at  the  next  like 
a  ball  of  fire  in  darkness.  Not  a  breath  stirred 
the  air,  and  the  strange  thunderstorm  flashed 
out  its  life  through  the  long  hours,  stationary 
and  alone  at  its  vast  height. 

In  the  great  silence  two  sounds  broke  the  still 
ness  from  time  to  time ;  the  deep  satisfied  grunt 
of  a  pig  turning  his  fattest  side  to  the  cobble 
stones  as  he  slept  —  and  the  long,  low  wail  of  a 
woman  dying  in  great  pain. 

The  little  room  was  very  dark.  A  single  wick 
burned  in  the  boat-shaped  cup  of  the  tall  earthen 
ware  lamp,  and  there  was  little  oil  left  in  the 
small  receptacle.  On  the  high  trestle  bed,  upon 
the  thinnest  of  straw  mattresses,  decently  covered 
with  a  coarse  brown  blanket,  lay  a  pale  woman, 
emaciated  to  a  degree  hardly  credible.  A  clean 
white  handkerchief  was  bound  round  her  brow 
and  covered  her  head,  only  a  scanty  lock  or  two 
of  fair  hair  escaping  at  the  side  of  her  face.  The 
features  were  calm  and  resigned,  but  when  the 
pain  of  the  death  agony  seized  upon  her  the  thin 
lips  parted  and  deep  lines  of  suffering  appeared 


20  CHILDREN    OF    THE    KING. 

about  the  mouth.  She  seemed  to  struggle  as 
best  she  could,  but  the  low,  quavering  cry  would 
not  be  stifled  —  lower  and  more  trembling  each 
time  it  was  renewed. 

An  old  barefooted  friar  with  a  kindly  eye  and 
a  flowing  grey  beard  stood  beside  her.  He  had 
done  what  he  could  to  comfort  her  and  was 
going  away.  But  she  feebly  begged  him  to  stay 
a  little  longer.  In  an  interval,  while  she  had 
no  pain,  she  spoke  to  her  boys. 

"  Ruggiero  —  Sebastiano  —  dear  sons  —  you 
could  not  save  me,  and  I  am  going.  God  bless 
you.  Our  Lady  help  you  —  remember  —  you 
are  Children  of  the  King  —  remember  —  ah." 

She  sighed  heavily  and  her  jaw  fell  as  another 
sort  of  pallor  spread  suddenly  over  her  face. 
Poor  Carmela  was  dead  at  last,  after  weeks  of 
sickness,  worked  to  death,  as  the  neighbours  said; 
by  Pietro  Casale  and  his  wife  Concetta. 

She  left  those  two  boys,  lean,  poorly  clad  lads 
of  ten  and  twelve  years,  yellow  haired  and  blue 
eyed,  with  big  bones  and  hunger-pinched  faces. 
They  could  just  remember  seeing  their  father 
brought  home  dead  with  a  knife  wound  in  his 
breast  six  years  earlier.  Now  they  took  hands 


CHILDREN    OF    THE    KING.  21 

as  they  looked  at  their  dead  mother  with  a  sort 
of  wondering  gaze.  There  were  no  tears,  no 
cries  of  despair  —  least  of  all  did  they  show  any 
fear. 

Old  Padre  Michele  made  them  kneel  down, 
still  hand  in  hand,  while  he  recited  prayers  for 
the  dead.  The  boys  knew  some  of  the  responses, 
learned  by  ear  with  small  regard  for  Latinity, 
though  they  understood  what  they  were  saying. 
When  the  monk  got  up  they  rose  also  and  looked 
again  at  the  poor  dead  face. 

"  You  have  no  relations,  my  children,"  said 
the  old  man. 

"  We  are  alone,"  answered  the  elder  boy  in 
a  quiet,  clear  voice.  "  But  I  will  take  care  of 
Sebastiano." 

"  And  I  will  help  Ruggiero,"  said  the  younger 
in  much  the  same  tone. 

"  You  are  hungry  ? ' ' 

"Always,"  answered  both  together,  without 
hesitation. 

Padre  Michele  would  have  smiled,  but  the 
hungry  faces  and  the  mournful  tone  told  him 
how  true  the  spoken  word  must  be.  He  fumbled 
in  the  pockets  in  the  breast  of  his  gown,  and 


22  CHILDKEN    OF    THE    KING. 

presently  produced  a  few  shady-looking  red  and 
white  sugar  sweetmeats,  bullet-like  in  shape  and 
hardness. 

"It  is  all  I  have  now,  my  children,"  said  the 
old  man.  "I  picked  them  up  yesterday  at  a 
wedding,  to  give  them  to  a  poor  little  girl  who 
was  ill.  But  she  was  dead  when  I  got  there,  so 
you  may  have  them." 

The  lads  took  the  stuff  thankfully  and 
crunched  the  stony  balls  with  white,  wolfish 
teeth. 

With  Padre  Michele's  help  they  got  an  old 
woman  from  amongst  the  neighbours  to  rouse 
herself  and  do  what  was  necessary.  When  all 
was  over  she  took  the  brown  blanket  as  pay 
ment  without  asking  for  it,  smuggling  it  out  of 
the  mean  room  under  her  great  black  hand 
kerchief.  But  it  was  day  then,  and  Don  Pietro 
Casale  was  wide  awake.  He  stopped  her  in  the 
narrow  part  of  the  lane  at  the  foot  of  his  own 
staircase,  and  forcibly  undid  the  bundle,  to  the 
old  woman's  inexpressible  discomfiture.  He 
said  nothing,  as  he  took  it  from  her  and  carried 
it  away,  but  his  thin  grey  lips  smiled  quietly. 
The  old  woman  shook  her  fist  at  him  behind 


CHILDREN    OF    THE    KING.  23 

his  back  and  cursed  his  dead  under  her  breath. 
From  Rome  to  Palermo,  swear  at  a  man  if  you 
please,  call  him  by  bad  names,  and  he  will 
laugh  at  you.  But  curse  his  dead  relations  or 
their  souls,  and  you  had  better  keep  beyond  the 
reach  of  his  knife,  or  of  his  hands  if  he  have  no 
weapon.  So  the  old  woman  was  careful  that 
Pietro  Casale  should  not  hear  her. 

"Managgia  I'anima  di  chi  t'  e  morto!"  she 
muttered,  as  she  hobbled  away. 

Everything  in  the  room  where  Carmela  died 
belonged  to  Don  Pietro,  and  he  took  everything. 
He  found  the  two  boys  standing  together,  look 
ing  across  the  fence  of  the  cabbage  garden 
down  at  the  distant  valley  and  over  at  the 
height  opposite,  beyond  which  the  sea  was 
hidden. 

"Eh!  You  good-for-nothings!"  he  called  out 
to  them.  "  Is  nothing  done  to-day  because  the 
mother  is  dead  ?  No  bread  to-night,  then  — 
you  know  that." 

"We  will  not  work  for  you  any  more,"  an 
swered  Ruggiero,  the  elder,  as  both  turned 
round. 

Don  Pietro  went  up  to  them.     He  had  a  short 


24  CHILDREN    OF    THE    KING. 

stout  stick  in  his  hand,  tough  and  black  with 
age,  and  he  lifted  it  as  though  to  drive  them  to 
work.  They  waited  quietly  till  it  should  please 
him  to  come  to  close  quarters,  which  he  did 
without  delay.  I  have  said  that  he  was  a  man 
of  few  words.  But  the  Children  of  the  King 
were  not  like  Calabrian  boys,  children  though 
they  were.  Their  wolfish  teeth  .were  very  white 
as  they  waited  for  him  with  parted  lips,  and 
there  was  an  odd  blue  light  in  their  eyes  which 
is  not  often  seen  south  of  Goth-land. 

They  were  but  twelve  and  ten  years  old,  but 
they  could  fight  already,  in  their  small  way,  and 
had  tried  it  many  a  time  with  shepherd  lads  on 
the  hill-side.  But  Don  Pietro  despised  children 
and  aimed  a  blow  at  Ruggiero's  right  shoulder. 
The  blow  did  not  take  effect,  but  a  moment  had 
not  passed  before  the  old  peasant  lay  sprawling 
on  his  back  with  both  the  boys  on  top  of  him. 

"You  cannot  hurt  the  mother  now,"  said 
Ruggiero.  "  Hit  him  as  I  do,  Bastianello  !  " 

And  the  four  bony  boyish  fists  fell  in  a  storm 
of  savage  blows  upon  Don  Pietro  Casale's 
leathern  face  and  eyes  and  head  and  thin  grey 
lips. 


CHILDREN    OF    THE    KING.  25 

"That  is  for  the  mother,"  said  Ruggiero. 
"Another  fifty  a-piece  for  ourselves." 

The  wiry  old  peasant  struggled  desperately, 
and  at  last  threw  himself  free  of  them  and 
staggered  to  his  feet. 

"Quick,  Bastianello !  "  shouted  Ruggiero. 

In  the  twinkling  of  an  eye  they  were  over 
the  fence  and  running  at  full  speed  for  the 
valley.  Don  Pietro  bruised,  dazed  and  half- 
blinded,  struggled  after  them,  crashing  through 
hedges  and  stumbling  into  ditches  while  he 
shouted  for  help  in  his  pursuit.  But  his  heavy 
shoes  hampered  him,  and  at  best  he  was  no 
match  for  them  in  speed.  His  face  was  covered 
with  purple  blotches  and  his  eyelids  were  swell 
ing  at  a  terrible  rate.  Out  of  breath  and  utterly 
worn  out  he  stood  still  and  steadied  himself 
against  a  crooked  olive-tree.  He  could  no  longer 
hear  even  the  footsteps  of  the  lads  before  him. 

They  were  beyond  his  reach  now.     The  last 
of  the  Children  of  the  King  had  left  Verbicaro, 
where  their   fathers  had   lived    and    died  since- 
darker   ages  than   Calabrian  history  has    accu 
rately  recorded. 


CHAPTER  II. 

"WE  shall  never  see  him  again,"  said  Rug- 
giero,  stopping  at  last  and  looking  back  over 
the  stone  wall  he  had  just  cleared. 

Sebastiano  listened  intently.  He  was  not  tall 
enough  to  s*ee  over,  but  his  ears  were  sharp. 

"  I  do  not  hear  him  any  more,"  he  answered. 
"  I  hurt  my  hands  on  his  nose,"  he  added, 
thoughtfully,  as  he  glanced  at  his  bruised 
knuckles. 

"  So  did  I,"  returned  his  brother.  "  He  will 
remember  us.  Come  along  —  it  is  far  to  Scalea." 

"  To  Scalea  ?     Are  we  going  to  Scalea  ?  " 

"  Eh  !  If  not,  where  ?  And  where  else  can 
we  eat  ?  Don  Antonino  will  give  us  a  piece  of 
bread." 

"  There  are  figs  here,"  suggested  Sebastiano, 
looking  up  into  the  trees  around  them. 

"  It  has  not  rained  yet,  and  if  you  eat  figs  from 
the  tree  before  it  has  rained  you  will  have  pain. 

26 


CHILDREN    OF    THE    KING.  27 

But  if  we  are  very  hungry  we  will  eat  them,  all 
the  same." 

Little  Sebastiano  yielded  rather  reluctantly 
before  his  brother's  superior  wisdom.  Besides, 
Padre  Michele  had  given  them  a  little  cold  bean 
porridge  at  the  monastery  early  in  the  morning. 
So  they  went  on  their  way  cautiously,  and  look 
ing  about  them  at^  every  step  now  that  there 
was  no  more  need  of  haste.  For  they  had  got 
amongst  the  vineyards  and  orchards  where  they 
had  no  business,  and  if  the  peasants  saw  them, 
the  stones  would  begin  to  fly.  They  knew  their 
way  about,  however,  and  reached  an  open  foot 
path  without  any  adventure,  so  that  in  half  an 
hour  they  were  on  the  mule  track  to  Scalea. 
They  walked  much  faster  than  a  grown  peasant 
would  have  done,  and  they  knew  the  road. 
Instead  of  turning  to  the  left  after  going  down 
the  hill  beyond  the  tower,  they  took  the  right 
hand  path  to  the  Scalea  river,  and  as  it  had  not 
rained  they  got  across  without  getting  very 
wet.  But  that  road  is  not  so  good  as  the  one 
to  Diamante,  because  the  river  is  sometimes 
swollen,  and  people  with  laden  mules  have  to 
wait  even  as  much  as  three  days  before  they  can 


28  CHILDREN    OF    THE    KING. 

try  the  ford,  and  moreover  there  is  bad  air  there, 
which  brings  fever. 

At  last  they  struck  the  long  beach  and  began 
to  trudge  through  the  sand. 

"And  what  shall  we  do  to-morrow?"  asked 
Sebastiario. 

Ruggiero  was  whistling  loudly  to  show  his 
younger  brother  that  he  was  not  tired  nor 
afraid  of  anything.  At  the  question  he  stopped 
suddenly,  and  faced  the  blazing  blue  sea. 

"We  can  go  to  America,"  he  said,  after  a 
moment's  reflection. 

Little  Sebastiano  did  not  seem  at  all  sur 
prised  by  the  proposition,  but  he  remained  in 
deep  thought  for  some  moments,  stamping  up 
a  little  hillock  of  sand  between  his  bare  feet. 

"  We  are  not  old  enough  to  be  married  yet," 
he  remarked  at  last. 

"That  is  true,"  admitted  Ruggiero,  reluc 
tantly. 

Possibly,  the  close  connection  between  going 
to  America  and  being  married  may  not  be 
apparent  to  the  poor  untutored  foreign  mind. 
It  would  certainly  not  have  been  understood  a 
hundred  miles  north  of  Sebastiano' s  heap  of 


CHILDREN    OF    THE    KING.  29 

sand.  And  yet  it  is  very  simple.  In  Calabria 
any  strong  young  fellow  with  a  decently  good 
character  can  find  a  wife  with  a  small  dowry, 
though  he  be  ever  so  penniless.  Generally 
within  a  week,  and  always  within  a  fortnight, 
he  emigrates  alone,  taking  all  his  wife's  money 
with  him  and  leaving  her  to  work  for  her  own 
living  with  her  parents.  He  goes  to  Buenos 
Ayres  or  Monte  Video.  If,  at  the  end  of  four, 
five  or  six  years  he  has  managed  to  increase 
the  money  so  as  to  yield  a  small  income,  and 
if  his  wife  behaves  herself  during  his  absence, 
he  comes  home  again  and  buys  a  piece  of  land 
and  builds  a  house.  His  friends  do  not  fail  to 
inform  him  of  his  wife's  conduct,  and  he  holds 
her  dowry  as  a  guarantee  of  her  fidelity.  But 
if  he  fails  to  enrich  himself,  or  if  she  is  unfaith 
ful  to  him,  he  never  comes  back  at  all.  It  is 
thus  clear  that  a  penniless  young  man  cannot 
go  to  America  until  he  is  married. 

"  That  is  very  true,"  Ruggiero  repeated. 

"  And  we  must  eat,"  said  Sebastiano,  who 
knew  by  experience  the  truth  of  what  he  said. 

"  And  we  are  always  hungry.  It  is  very 
strange.  I  am  hungry  now,  and  yet  we  had 


30  CHILDREN    OF    THE    KING. 

the  beans  only  this  morning.  It  is  true  that 
the  plate  was  not  full,  and  there  were  two  of 
us.  I  wish  we  were  like  the  son  of  Antonio, 
who  never  eats.  I  heard  his  mother  telling  the 
chemist  so  last  winter." 

"  He  is  dead,"  said  Sebastiano.  "  Health  to 
us  !  "  he  added,  according  to  custom. 

" Health  to  us!"  repeated  Ruggiero.  "Per 
haps  he  died  because  he  did  not  eat.  Who 
knows  ?  I  should,  I  am  sure.  Is  he  dead  ?  I 
did  not  know.  Come  along  !  If  Don  Antonino 
is  not  away  we  shall  get  some  bread." 

So  they  trudged  on  through  the  sand.  It 
was  still  very  hot  on  the  yellowish  white  beach, 
under  the  great  southern  sun  in  September,  but 
the  Children  of  the  King  had  been  used  to  bear 
ing  worse  hardships  than  heat,  or  cold  either, 
and  the  thought  of  the  big  brown  loaves  in 
Don  Antonino's  wine-shop  was  very  cheering. 

At  last  they  reached  the  foot  of  the  terraced 
village  that  rises  with  its  tiers  of  white  and 
brown  houses  from  the  shore  to  the  top  of  the 
hill.  Not  so  big  nor  so  prosperous  a  place  as 
Yerbicaro,  but  much  bigger  and  richer  than 
Diamante.  There  are  always  a  good  many 


CHILDREN    OF    THE    KING.  31 

fishing  boats  hauled  up  on  the  beach,  but  you 
will  not  often  see  a  cargo  boat  excepting  in 
the  autumn.  Don  Antonino  keeps  the  cook- 
shop  and  the  wine  cellar  in  the  little  house 
facing  the  sea,  before  you  turn  to  the  right 
to  go  up  into  the  village.  He  is  an  old  sailor 
and  an  honest  fellow,  and  comes  from  Massa, 
which  is  near  Sorrento. 

A  vast  old  man  he  is,  with  keen,  quiet  grey 
eyes  under  heavy  lids  that  droop  and  slant 
outward  like  the  lifts  of  a  yard.  He  is  thick 
set,  heavy,  bulky  in  the  girth,  flat-footed,  iron- 
handed,  slow  to  move.  He  has  a  white  beard 
like  a  friar,  and  wears  a  worsted  cap.  His  skin, 
having  lost  at  last  the  tan  of  thirty  years,  is 
like  the  rough  side  of  light  brown  sole  leather  — 
a  sort  of  yellowish,  grey,  dead-leaf  colour.  He 
is  very  deaf  and  therefore  generally  very  silent. 
He  has  been  boatswain  on  board  of  many  a 
good  ship  and  there  are  few  ports  from  Batum 
to  San  Francisco  where  he  has  not  cast  anchor. 

The  boys  saw  him  from  a  long  way  off,  and 
their  courage  rose.  He  often  came  to  Verbi- 
caro  to  buy  wine  and  had  known  their  father, 
and  knew  them.  He  would  certainly  give  them 


32  CHILDREN    OF    THE    KING. 

a  piece  of  bread.  As  he  saw  them  coming  his 
quiet  eyes  watched  them,  and  followed  them  as 
they  came  up  the  beach.  But  he  did  not  turn 
his  head,  nor  move  hand  or  foot,  even  when 
they  were  close  to  him.  He  looked  so  solid 
and  determined  to  stand  still  where  he  was, 
in  the  door  of  his  shop,  that  you  might  have 
taken  him  for  an  enormous  lay  figure  of  a 
man,  made  of  carved  oak  and  dressed  up  for 
a  sign  to  his  own  business.  The  two  lads 
touched  their  ragged  woollen  caps  and  stood 
looking  at  him,  wondering  whether  he  would 
ever  move.  At  last  his  grey  eyes  twinkled. 

"  Have  you.  never  seen  a  Christian  before  ? " 
he  inquired  in  a  deep  gruff  voice. 

He  did  not  seem  to  be  in  a  good  humour. 
The  boys  drew  back  somewhat  in  awe,  and  sat 
down  to  rest  on  the  stones  by  the  wall.  Still 
Antonino's  eyes  followed  them,  though  he  did 
not  move.  Sebastiano  looked  up  at  him  un 
easily  from  time  to  time,  but  Ruggiero  gazed 
steadily  at  the  sea  with  the  affectation  of  proud 
indifference  to  scrutiny,  which  is  becoming  in 
a  boy  of  twelve  years.  At  last  the  old  man 
stirred,  turned  slowly  as  on  a  pivot  and  went 
into  the  shop. 


CHILDREN    OF    THE    KING.  33 

"  Is  it  not  better  to  speak  to  him  ?  "  asked 
Sebastiano  of  his  brother  in  a  whisper. 

"  No.  He  is  deaf.  If  he  did  not  understand 
us  he  would  be  angry  and  would  give  us  no 
bread." 

Presently  Don  Antonino  came  out  again.  He 
held  half  a  loaf  and  a  big  slab  of  goat's-milk 
cheese  between  his  huge  thumb  and  finger.  He 
paused  exactly  on  the  spot  where  he  had  stood 
so  long,  and  seemed  about  to  become  absorbed 
in  the  contemplation  of  the  empty  fishing  boats 
lying  in  the  sun.  Sebastiano  watched  him  with 
hungry  eyes,  but  Ruggiero  again  stared  at  the 
sea.  After  several  minutes  the  old  boatswain 
got  under  way  again  and  came  to  them,  holding 
out  the  food  to  them  both. 

"  Eat,"  he  said  laconically. 

They  both  jumped  up  and  thanked  him,  and 
pulled  at  their  ragged  caps  before  they  took  the 
bread  and  cheese  from  his  hand.  He  nodded 
gravely,  which  was  his  way  of  explaining  that 
he  could  not  hear  but  that  it  was  all  right,  and 
then  he  watched  them  as  they  set  to  work. 

"  Like  wolves,"  he  said  solemnly,  as  he  looked 
on. 


34  CHILDREN    OF    THE    KING. 

The  place  was  quite  deserted  at  that  hour. 
Only  now  and  then  a  woman  passed,  with  an 
earthen  jar  of  water  on  her  head  and  her  little 
tin  bucket  and  rope  in  her  hand.  The  public 
well  is  not  fifty  yards  from  Antonino's  house,  up 
the  brook  and  on  the  left  of  it.  The  breeze 
was  dying  away  and  it  was  very  hot,  though 
the  sun  was  already  behind  the  high  rocks  of 
the  cape. 

"Where  are  the  beasts?"  asked  Don  Antonino, 
as  the  boys  swallowed  their  last  mouthful. 

Ruggiero  threw  his  head  back  and  stuck  out 
his  chin,  which  signifies  negation  in  the  south. 
He  knew  it  was  of  little  use  to  speak  unless  he 
could  get  near  the  old  man's  ear  and  shout. 

"And  what  are  you  doing  here  ?  "  asked  the 
latter. 

Speech  was  now  unavoidable.  Euggiero  stood 
on  tiptoe  and  the  old  man  bent  over  sideways, 
much  as  a  heavily  laden  Dutch  galliot  heels  to 
a  stiff  breeze. 

"  The  mother  is  dead  !  "  bawled  the  boy  in  his 
high  strong  voice. 

Oddly  enough  the  tears  came  into  his  eyes 
for  the  first  time,  as  he  shouted  at  the  deaf  old 


CHILDREN    OF    THE    KING.  35 

man,  and  at  the  same  moment  little  Sebastiano's 
lower  lip  trembled.  Antonino  shook  his  head  in 
rough  sympathy. 

"  We  have  also  beaten  Don  Pietro  Casale,  and 
so  we  have  run  away/'  yelled  the  boy. 

Antonino  grunted  thoughtfully  and  his  grey 
eyes  twinkled  as  he  slowly  righted  himself  and 
stood  up  again.  Very  deliberately  he  went  into 
the  shop  again  and  presently  came  back  with  a 
big  measure  of  weak  wine  and  water. 

"Drink,"  he  said,  holding  out  the  jug. 

Again  the  two  boys  pulled  at  their  caps  and 
each  raised  the  jug  respectfully  toward  the  old 
man  before  drinking. 

"  To  health,"  each  said,  and  Antonino  nodded 
gravely. 

Then  Kuggiero  took  the  jug  inside  and 
rinsed  it,  as  he  knew  it  was  his  duty  to  do  and 
set  it  on  the  table.  When  he  came  back  he 
stood  beside  his  brother,  waiting  for  Don  Anto 
nino  to  speak.  A  long  silence  followed. 

"  Sleep,"  said  the  old  man.  "Afterwards  we 
will  talk." 

He  took  his  old  place  in  the  doorway  and 
stared  steadily  out  to  sea.  The  boys  lay  down 


36  CHILDREN    OF    THE    KING. 

beside  the  house  and  having  eaten  and  drunk 
their  fill  and  walked  a  matter  of  fifteen  miles, 
were  sound  asleep  in  three  minutes. 

At  sunset  Ruggiero  sat  up  suddenly  and 
rubbed  his  eyes.  Don  Antonino  was  no  longer 
at  the  door,  and  the  sound  of  several  men's 
voices  came  from  within,  mingled  with  the 
occasional  dull  rattle  of  coarse  glasses  on 
wooden  tables. 

"  0  !  "  Ruggiero  called  softly  to  his  brother. 
Then  he  added  a  syllable  and  called  again, 
"  0-e ! "  Little  Sebastiano  woke,  sat  up  and 
looked  about  him,  rubbing  his  eyes  in  his  turn. 

"What  has  happened?"  he  inquired,  only 
half  awake. 

"  By  the  grace  of  God  we  have  eaten,  we 
have  drunk  and  we  have  slept,"  said  Ruggiero 
by  way  of  answer. 

Both  got  up,  shook  themselves  and  stood 
with  their  hands  in  their  pockets,  looking  at  the 
sea.  They  were  barefooted  and  barelegged, 
with  torn  breeches,  coarse  white  shirts  much 
patched  about  the  shoulders,  and  ragged  woollen 
caps.  Presently  they  turned  as  by  a  common 
instinct  and  went  and  stood  before  the  open 


CHILDREN    OF    THE    KING.  37 

door,  peering  in  at  the  guests.  Don  Antonino 
was  behind  his  black  counter  measuring  wine. 
His  wife  was  with  him  now  and  helping  him,  a 
cheerful,  clean  woman  having  a  fair  complexion, 
grey  hair  and  round  sharp  eyes  with  red  lids  — 
a  stranger  in  Calabria  like  her  husband.  She 
held  the  neck  of  a  great  pear-shaped  demijohn, 
covered  with  straw,  of  which  the  lower  part 
rested  on  the  counter.  Antonino  held  a  quart 
jug  to  be  filled  while  she  lowered  the  mouth, 
and  he  poured  the  measure  each  time  into  a 
barrel  through  a  black  tin  funnel.  They  both 
counted  the  measures  in  audible  tones,  checking 
each  other  as  it  were.  The  wine  was  very  dark 
and  strong  and  the  smell  filled  the  low  room 
and  came  out  through  the  door.  Half-a-dozen 
men  sat  at  the  tables,  mostly  eating  ship  biscuit 
of  their  own  and  goat's-milk  cheese  which  they 
bought  with  their  wine.  They  were  rough- 
looking  fellows,  generally  in  checked  flannel 
shirts,  and  homespun  trousers.  But  they  all 
wore  boots  or  shoes,  which  are  in  the  south  a 
distinctive  sign  of  a  certain  degree  of  pros 
perity.  Most  of  them  had  black  beards  and 
smart  woollen  caps.  They  were  men  who  got 


38  CHILDREN    OF    THE    KING. 

their  living  principally  by  the  sea  in  one  way  or 
another,  but  none  of  them  looked  thorough  sea 
men.  They  talked  loud  and  with  a  certain  air 
of  boasting,  they  were  rough,  indeed,  but  not 
strongly  built  nor  naturally  easy  in  their  move 
ments  as  sailors  are.  Their  eyes  were  restless 
and  fiery,  but  the  glance  was  neither  keen  nor 
direct.  Altogether  they  contrasted  oddly  with 
Don  Antonino,  the  old  boatswain.  This  part  of 
Calabria  does  not  breed  genuine  sea  folk. 

Antonino  took  no  notice  of  the  boys  as  they 
stood  outside  the  door,  but  went  quietly  on  with 
his  work,  measuring  quart  after  quart  of  wine 
and  pouring  it  into  the  barrel. 

"  If  it  were  a  keg,  I  could  carry  it  for  him," 
said  Euggiero,  "  but  I  cannot  lift  a  barrel  yet." 

"We  could  roll  it,  together,"  suggested  Se 
bastian  o  thoughtfully. 

Presently  Don  Antonino  finished  his  job  and 
bunged  the  barrel  with  a  cork  and  a  bit  of  old 
sailcloth.  Then  he  looked  up  and  stood  still. 
The  boys  were  not  quite  sure  whether  he  was 
watching  them  or  not,  for  it  was  already  dusk. 
His  wife  lit  a  small  German  petroleum  lamp 
and  hung  it  in  the  middle  of  the  room,  and  then 


CHILDREN    OF    THE    KING.  39 

went  to  the  fireplace  in  the  dark  corner  where 
something  was  cooking.  One  of  the  guests 
shouted  to  Antonino. 

"  There  is  a  martingane  at  San  Nicola/'  he 
bawled. 

Antonino  turned  his  head  slowly  to  the 
speaker  and  waited  for  more. 

"  Bound  east,"  continued  the  man.  "  From 
Majuri." 

"What  is  wrong  with  her?"  inquired  the  old 
host. 

Boats  going  west,  that  is,  towards  Naples  and 
Civita  Vecchia  often  put  in  to  the  small  natural 
harbours  to  wait  for  the  night  wind.  Those 
going  east  never  do  except  for  some  especial 
reason. 

The  man  said  nothing,  but  fixed  his  eyes  on 
Antonino  and  slowly  filled  his  pipe,  evidently 
intending  to  convey  some  secret  piece  of  in 
formation  by  the  look  and  action.  But  the  old 
sailor's  stolid  face  did  not  betray  the  slightest 
intelligence.  He  turned  away  and  deliberately 
took  half-a-dozen  salted  sprats  from  a  keg  be 
hind  the  counter  and  laid  them  in  a  dish  pre 
paratory  to  cleaning  them  for  his  own  supper. 


40  CHILDREN    OF    THE    KING. 

The  man  who  had  spoken  to  him  seemed 
annoyed,  but  only  shrugged  his  shoulders  im 
patiently  and  went  on  eating  and  drinking. 

Antonino  took  a  jug  of  water  and  went  out 
side  to  wash  his  fish.  The  two  boys  offered  to 
do  it  for  him,  but  he  shook  his  head.  He  did 
not  speak  until  he  had  almost  finished. 

"  We  will  fish  to-night,"  he  said  at  last,  in  a 
low  voice,  pouring  a  final  rinsing  of  water  into 
the  dish.  "  Sleep  in  the  sand  under  the  third 
boat  from  the  rocks.  I  will  wake  you  when  I 
am  ready." 

He  looked  from  one  to  the  other  of  the  lads 
with  a  keen  glance,  and  then  laid  one  huge 
finger  against  his  lips.  He  drained  the  water 
from  his  dish  and  went  in  again. 

"•Come  along,"  said  Ruggiero  softly.  "Let 
us  find  the  boat  and  get  out  of  the  way." 

The  craft  was  a  small  "gozzo,"  or  fisherman's 
boat,  not  above  a  dozen  or  fourteen  feet  long, 
sharp  and  much  alike  at  bow  and  stern,  but 
with  a  high  stem  surmounted  by  a  big  ball  of 
wood,  very  convenient  for  hanging  nets  upon. 
It  was  almost  dark  by  this  time,  but  the  boys 
saw  that  she  was  black  as  compared  with  the 


CHILDREN    OF    THE    KING.  41 

other  boats  on  both  sides  of  her.  She  was  quite 
empty  and  lay  high  and  dry  on  three  low 
chocks.  Ruggiero  lay  down,  getting  as  close  to 
the  keel  as  he  could  and  Sebastiario  followed 
his  example.  They  lay  head  to  head  so  that 
they  could  talk  in  a  whisper. 

"  Why  are  we  not  to  speak  of  his  fishing  ? " 
asked  the  younger  boy. 

"  Who  knows  ?  But  if  we  do  as  he  tells  us 
he  will  give  us  more  bread  to-morrow." 

"  He  is  very  good  to  us." 

"  Because  we  beat  Don  Pietro  Casale.  Don 
Pietro  cheated  him  last  year.  I  saw  the  cotton 
seed  oil  he  mixed  with  the  good,  in  that  load  we 
brought  down." 

"Perhaps  the  fishing  is  not  for  fish,"  sug 
gested  little  Sebastiano,  curling  himself  up  and 
laying  his  head  on  the  end  of  the  chock. 

They  did  not  know  what  time  it  was  when 
Don  Antonino  gently  stirred  them  with  his  big 
foot.  They  sprang  up  wide  awake  and  saw  in 
the  starlight  that  he  had  a  pair  of  oars  and  a 
coil  of  rope  in  his  hands. 

"  As  I  launch  her,  take  the  chocks  from  behind 
and  put  them  in  front,"  he  said  in  a  low  voice. 


42  CHILDKEN    OF    THE    KING. 

Then  he  laid  the  oars  softly  in  the  bows  and 
dropped  the  rope  into  the  bottom,  and  began  to 
push  the  boat  slowly  down  to  the  sea.  The  boys 
did  as  he  had  told  them  to  do,  and  in  a  few 
minutes  the  bows  were  in  the  rippling  water. 
The  old  sailor  took  off  his  shoes  and  stockings 
and  put  them  on  board,  and  rolled  up  his 
trousers.  Then  with  a  strong  push  he  sent  her 
down  over  the  pebbles  and  got  upon  the  bows  as 
she  floated  out.  To  look  at  his  heavy  form  you 
would  not  have  thought  that  he  could  move  so 
lightly  and  quickly  when  he  pleased.  In  a 
moment  he  was  standing  over  the  oars  and  back 
ing  to  the  beach  again  for  the  boys  to  get  in. 
They  stood  above  their  knees  in  the  warm  water 
and  handed  him  the  chocks  before  they  got  on 
board.  He  nodded  as  though  satisfied,  but  said 
nothing  as  he  pulled  away  towards  the  rocky 
point.  The  lads  sat  silently  in  the  stern,  won 
dering  whither  he  was  taking  them.  He  cer 
tainly  had  brought  no  fishing  tackle  with  him. 
There  was  not  even  a  torch  and  harpoon  aboard 
for  spearing  the  fish.  He  pulled  rapidly  and 
steadily  as  though  he  were  going  on  an  errand 
and  were  in  a  hurry,  keeping  close  under  the 


CHILDREN    OF    THE    KING.  43 

high  rocks  as  soon  as  he  was  clear  of  the  reefs 
at  the  cape.  At  last,  nearly  an  hour  after  start 
ing,  the  boys  made  out  a  great  deserted  tower 
just  ahead.  Then  Antonino  stopped  pulling, 
unshipped  his  oars  one  after  the  other  and 
muffled  them  just  where  the  strap  works  on  the 
thole-pin,  by  binding  bits  of  sailcloth  round  them. 
He  produced  the  canvas  and  the  rope-yarn  from 
his  pockets,  and  the  boys  watched  his  quick, 
workmanlike  movements  without  understanding 
what  he  was  doing.  When  he  began  to  pull 
again  the  oars  made  no  noise  against  the  tholes, 
and  he  dipped  the  blades  gently  into  the  water, 
as  he  pulled  past  the  tower  into  the  sheltered 
bay  beyond. 

Then  a  vessel  loomed  up  suddenly  under  the 
great  cliffs,  and  a  moment  later  he  was  under  her 
side,  tapping  softly  against  the  planking.  The 
boys  held  their  breath  and  watched  him.  Pres 
ently  a  dark  head  appeared  above  the  bulwarks 
and  remained  stationary  for  a  while.  Antonino 
stood  up  in  his  boat  so  as  to  lessen  the  distance 
and  make  himself  more  easily  recognisable. 
Then  a  hand  appeared  beside  the  head  and  made 
a  gesture,  then  dived  down  and  came  up  again 


44  CHILDREN    OF    THE    KING. 

with  the  end  of  a  rope,  lowering  it  down  into  the 
boat.  Antonino  gave  the  line  to  Ruggiero  and 
then  stepped  off  upon  the  great  hook  on  the 
martingane's  side  to  which  the  chain  links  for 
beaching,  got  hold  of  the  after  shroud  and  swung 
himself  on  board. 

Now  it  may  be  as  well  to  say  here  what  a 
martingane  is.  She  is  a  good-sized,  decked  vessel, 
generally  between  five-and-twenty  and  a  hundred 
tons,  with  good  beam  and  full  bows,  narrow  at 
the  stern  and  rather  high  out  of  water  unless 
very  heavily  laden.  She  has  one  stout  mast? 
cross-trees,  and  a  light  topmast.  She  has  an 
enormous  yard,  much  longer  than  herself,  on 
which  is  bent  the  high  peaked  mainsail.  She 
carries  a  gaff -top-sail,  fore-staysail,  jib  and  flying- 
jib,  and  can  rig  out  all  sorts  of  light  sails  when 
she  is  before  the  wind.  She  is  a  good  sea  boat, 
but  slow  and  clumsy,  and  needs  a  strong  crew  to 
handle  her. 

The  two  boys  who  sat  in  the  fishing  boat 
alongside  the  martingane  on  that  dark  night  had 
no  idea  that  all  sea-going  vessels  were  not  called 
ships ;  but  there  was  something  mysteriously 
attractive  to  them  in  the  black  hull,  the  high 


CHILDREN    OF    THE    KING.  45 

tapering  yard,  and  the  shadowy  rigging.  They 
were  certainly  not  imaginative  boys,  but  they 
could  not  help  wondering  where  the  great  dark 
thing  had  been  and  whither  she  might  be  going. 
They  did  not  know  what  going  to  sea  meant,  nor 
what  real  deep-sea  vessels  were  like,  and  they 
even  fancied  that  this  one  might  have  been  to 
America.  But  they  understood  well  enough  that 
they  were  to  make  no  noise,  and  they  kept  their 
reflections  to  themselves,  silently  holding  on  to 
the  end  of  the  rope  as  they  sat  in  their  places. 
They  did  not  wait  very  long.  In  a  few 
minutes  Antonino  and  the  other  man  came  to 
the  side,  carrying  an  odd-looking  black  bundle, 
sewn  up  in  what  Ruggiero  felt  was  oiled  canvas 
as  he  steadied  it  down  into  the  stern  of  the  little 
boat,  and  neatly  hitched  round  from  end  to  end 
with  spun-yarn,  so  as  to  be  about  the  shape  of  an 
enormous  sausage.  The  two  men  lowered  it 
without  much  caution ;  it  was  heavy  but  rather 
limp.  Then  came  another  exactly  like  the  first, 
which  they  also  lowered  into  the  boat,  and  a 
moment  later  Don  Antonino  came  over  the  side 
as  quickly  and  noiselessly  as  he  had  gone  up, 
and  shoved  off  quietly  into  the  starlight. 


46  CHILDREN    OF    THE    KING. 

Half  an  hour  later  he  ran  alongside  of  a 
narrow  ledge  of  rock,  apparently  quite  inaccessi 
ble  from  the  land  above,  but  running  up  along 
the  cliff  in  such  a  way  that,  in  case  of  danger 
from  the  sea,  a  man  could  get  well  out  of  reach 
of  the  breakers.  He  went  ashore,  taking  the 
end  of  his  own  coil  of  rope  with  him.  He  made 
it  fast  in  the  dark  shadow,  and  he  must  have 
known  the  place  very  well,  for  there  was  but 
one  small  hole  running  under  a  stone  wedged  in 
a  cleft  of  the  rock,  through  which  he  could  pass 
the  line.  He  got  back  into  the  boat. 

"  Get  ashore,  boys,"  he  said,  "  and  wait  here. 
If  you  see  a  revenue  boat,  with  coast  guards  in 
it,'  coming  towards  you  as  though  the  men 
wanted  to  speak  to  you,  cast  off  the  end  of  the 
rope  and  let  it  run  into  the  sea.  Then  run  up 
the  ledge  there,  and  climb  the  rock,  the  faster 
the  better.  There  is  a  way  up.  But  keep  out 
of  sight  when  it  is  day,  by  lying  flat  in  the 
hollow  there.  If  anybody  else  comes  in  a  boat, 
and  says  nothing,  but  just  takes  the  rope,  do  not 
hinder  him.  Let  him  take  it,  and  he  will  take 
you  too,  and  give  you  a  couple  of  biscuits." 

Don  Antonino  pushed  off  a  little,  letting  the 


CHILDREN    OF    THE    KING.  47 

rope  run  out.  Then  he  made  his  end  of  it  fast 
to  the  two  ends  of  the  black  bundles,  and  back 
ing  out  as  far  as  he  could,  he  let  them  both 
down  gently  into  the  water,  and  pulled  away, 
leaving  the  Children  of  the  King  alone  on  the 
ledge.  He  had  managed  to  bring  the  rope 
down  through  the  cleft,  so  that  it  could  not 
easily  be  seen  from  the  sea.  The  boys  waited 
some  time  before  either  of  them  spoke,  although 
the  old  fellow  was  deaf. 

"  Those  things  looked  like  dead  men,"  said 
Sebastiano  at  last. 

"But  they  are  not,"  answered  Ruggiero  con 
fidently.  "  Now  I  know  why  Don  Antonino  is 
so  rich.  He  smuggles  tobacco." 

"  If  we  could  smuggle  tobacco,  too,  it  would 
be  a  fortune,"  remarked  the  younger  boy.  "  He 
would  give  us  bread  every  day,  with  cheese,  and 
wine  to  drink." 

"  We  shall  see." 

They  sat  a  long  time,  waiting  for  something 
to  happen,  and  then  fell  asleep,  curling  them 
selves  up  in  the  hollow  as  they  had  been  told 
to  do.  At  dawn  they  awoke  and  began  to  look 
out  for  the  revenue  boat.  But  she  did  not 


48  CHILDREN    OF    THE    KING. 

appear  in  sight.  The  hours  were  very  long  and 
it  was  very  hot,  and  they  had  nothing  to  eat  or 
drink.  Then  all  at  once  they  saw  what  seemed 
to  them  the  most  beautiful  vision  they  could 
remember.  A  big  felucca  shot  round  the  rocks, 
still  under  way  from  the  breeze  she  had  found 
in  the  little  bay.  Her  full  white  sails  still 
shivered  in  the  sun,  and  the  boys  could  see  the 
blue  light  that  passed  up  under  her  keel  and 
was  reflected  upon  her  snow-white  side  as  she 
ceased  to  move  just  in  front  of  them. 

A  big  man  with  a  red  beard  and  a  white  shirt 
stood  at  the  helm  and  fixed  his  eyes  on  the  point 
where  the  lads  were  hiding.  He  evidently  saw 
them,  for  he  nodded  to  a  man  near  him  and  gave 
an  order.  In  a  moment  the  dingy  was  launched 
arid  a  sailor  came  ashore.  He  jumped  nimbly 
out,  holding  the  painter  of  his  boat  in  one  hand, 
glanced  at  the  boys,  who  stood  up  as  soon  as 
they  saw  that  they  were  discovered,  and  cast  off 
the  end  of  the  rope,  keeping  hold  of  it  lest  it 
should  run.  Then  without  paying  any  more 
attention  to  the  boys,  he  went  on  board  again 
taking  the  end  with  him. 

"  And  we  ? "  shouted  Ruggiero  after  him,  as 
he  pulled  away  facing  them. 


CHILDREN    OF    THE    KING.  49 

"I  do  not  know  you/'  he  answered. 

"But  we  know  you  and  Don  Antonino,"  said 
Sebastiano,  who  was  quick-witted. 

"  Wait  a  while,"  replied  the  sailor. 

The  man  at  the  helm  spoke  to  him  while  the 
others  were  hauling  up  the  bundles  out  of  the 
water  and  getting  them  on  board.  The  dingy 
came  rapidly  back  and  the  sailor  sterned  her 
to  the  rock  for  the  boys  to  get  in.  In  a  few 
minutes  they  were  over  the  side  of  the  felucca.1 
They  pulled  at  their  ragged  caps  as  they  came 
up  to  the  man  at  the  helm,  who  proved  to  be 
the  master. 

"  What  do  you  want  ?  "  he  asked  roughly,  but 
he  looked  them  over  from  head  to  foot,  one  at  a 
time. 

"  The  mother  is  dead,"  said  Ruggiero,  "  and, 
moreover,  we  have  beaten  Don  Pietro  Casale  and 

1  A  felucca  is  a  two-masted  boat  of  great  length  in  proportion 
to  her  beam,  and  generally  a  very  good  sailer.  She  carries  two 
very  large  lateen  sails,  uncommonly  high  at  the  peak,  and  one  jib. 
She  is  sometimes  quite  open,  sometimes  half-decked,  and  some 
times  fully  decked,  according  to  her  size.  She  carries  generally 
from  ten  to  thirty  tons  of  cargo,  and  is  much  used  in  the 
coasting  trade,  all  the  way  from  Civita  Yecchia  to  the  Diamante. 
The  model  of  a  first-rate  felucca  is  very  like  that  of  a  Viking's 
ship  which  was  discovered  not  many  years  since  in  a  mound 
in  Xorway. 


50  CHILDREN    OF    THE    KING. 

run  away  from  Verbicaro,  and  we  wish  to  be 
sailors." 

"  Verbicaro  ?"  repeated  the  master.  "Land 
folk,  then.  Have  you  ever  been  to  sea  ?  " 

"  No,  but  we  are  strong  and  can  work." 

"You  may  come  with  me  to  Sorrento.  You 
will  find  work  there.  I  am  short-handed.  I 
daresay  you  are  worth  a  biscuit  apiece." 

He  spoke  in  the  roughest  tone  imaginable,  and 
his  black  eyes  —  for  he  had  black  eyes  and  thick 
black  hair  in  spite  of  his  red  beard  —  looked 
angry  and  fiery  while  he  talked.  Altogether  you 
would  have  thought  that  he  was  in  a  very  bad 
temper  and  not  at  all  disposed  to  take  a  couple 
of  starving  lads  on  board  out  of  charity.  But 
he  did  not  look  at  all  such  a  man  as  those 
awkward,  gaudily  dressed,  unsteady  fellows  the 
boys  had  seen  in  Antonino's  shop  on  the  previous 
night.  He  looked  a  seaman,  every  inch  of  him, 
and  they  instinctively  felt  that  as  he  stood  there 
at  the  helm  he  knew  his  business  thoroughly 
and  could  manage  his  craft  as  coolly  in  a  winter 
storm  as  on  this  flat  September  sea,  when  the 
men  were  getting  the  sweeps  out  because  there 
was  not  a  breath  of  wind  to  stir  the  sails. 


CHILDREN    OF    THE    KING.  51 

"Go  forward  and  pick  beans  for  dinner,"  he 
said. 

That  was  the  first  job  given  the  Children  of 
the  King  when  they  went  to  sea.  For  to  sea 
they  went  and  turned  out  seamen  in  due  time, 
as  good  as  the  master  who  took  them  first,  and 
perhaps  a  little  better,  though  that  is  saying 
much. 

And  so  I  have  told  you  who  the  Children  of 
the  King  are  and  how  they  shipped  as  boys  on 
board  of  a  Sorrento  felucca,  being  quite  alone  in 
the  world,  and  now  I  will  tell  you  of  some  things 
which  happened  to  them  afterwards,  and  not 
quite  so  long  ago. 


CHAPTER  III. 

TEN  years  have  passed  since  the  ever-memo 
rable  day  on  which  the  Children  of  the  King  hurt 
their  fists  so  badly  in  battering  Don  Pietro 
Casale's  sharp  nose.  They  are  big,  bony  men, 
now,  with  strongly  marked  features,  short  yellow 
hair  and  fair  beards.  So  far  they  are  alike, 
and  at  first  sight  might  be  taken  for  twin 
brothers.  But  there  is  a  marked  difference  be 
tween  them  in  character,  which  shows  itself  in 
their  faces.  Ruggiero's  eye  is  of  a  colder  blue, 
is  less  mobile  and  of  harder  expression  than 
Sebastiano's.  His  firm  lips  are  generally  tightly 
closed,  and  his  square  chin  is  bolder  than  his 
brother's.  He  is  stronger,  too,  though  not  by 
very  much,  and  though  he  is  more  silent  and 
usually  more  equable,  he  has  by  far  the  worse 
temper  of  the  two.  At  sea  there  is  little  to 
choose  between  them.  Perhaps,  on  the  whole, 
Sebastiano  has  always  been  the  favourite  amongst 
his  companions,  while  Ruggiero  has  been  thought 

52 


CHILDREN    OF    THE    KING.  53 

the  more  responsible  and  possibly  the  more 
dangerous  in  a  quarrel.  Both,  however,  have 
acquired  an  extraordinarily  good  reputation  as 
seamen,  and  also  as  boatmen  on  the  pleasure 
craft  of  all  sizes  which  sail  the  gulf  of  Naples 
during  the  summer  season. 

They  have  made  several  long  voyages,  too. 
They  have  been  to  New  York  and  to  Buenos 
Ayres  and  have  seen  many  ports  of  Europe  and 
America,  and  much  weather  of  all  sorts  north 
and  south  of  the  Line.  They  have  known  what 
it  is  to  be  short  of  victuals  five  hundred  miles 
from  land  with  contrary  winds ;  they  have  ex 
perienced  the  delights  of  a  summer  at  New 
Orleans,  waiting  for  a  cargo  and  being  eaten 
alive  by  mosquitoes ;  they  have  looked  up,  in 
January,  at  the  ice-sheeted  rigging,  when  boil 
ing  water  froze  upon  the  shrouds  and  ratlines, 
and  the  captain  said  that  no  man  could  lay  out 
upon  the  topsail  yard,  though  the  north-easter 
threatened  to  blow  the  sail  out  of  the  bolt-ropes 
—  but  Ruggiero  got  hold  of  the  lee  earing  all 
the  same  and  Sebastiano  followed  him,  and  the 
captain  swore  a  strange  oath  in  the  Italo- 
American  language,  and  went  aloft  himself  to 


54  CHILDREN    OF    THE    KING. 

help  light  the  sail  out  to  windward,  being  still 
a  young  man  and  not  liking  to  be  beaten  by  a 
couple  of  beardless  boys,  as  the  two  were  then.1 
And  they  have  seen  many  strange  sights,  sea- 
serpents  not  a  few,  and  mermaids  quite  beyond 
the  possibility  of  mistake,  and  men  who  can 
call  the  wind  with  four  knots  in  a  string  and 
words  unlearnable,  and  others  who  can  alter 
the  course  of  a  waterspout  by  a  secret  spell, 
and  a  captain  who  made  a  floating  beacon  of 
junk  soaked  in  petroleum  in  a  tar-barrel  and 
set  it  adrift  and  stood  up  on  the  quarter-deck 
calling  on  all  the  three  hundred  and  sixty-five 
saints  in  the  calendar  out  of  the  Neapolitan 
almanack  he  held  —  and  got  a  breeze,  too,  for 
his  pains,  as  Ruggiero  adds  with  a  quiet  and 
somewhat  incredulous  smile  when  he  has 
finished  the  yarn.  All  these  things  they  have 
seen  with  their  eyes,  and  many  more  which 
it  is  impossible  to  remember,  but  all  equally 
astonishing  though  equally  familiar  to  every 
body  who  has  been  at  sea  ten  years. 

1  The  writer  knows  of  a  Sorrentine  captain,  commanding  a 
large  bark  who,  when  topsails  are  reefed  in  his  watch  regularly 
takes  the  lee  earing,  which,  as  most  landsmen  need  to  be  told, 
is  the  post  of  danger  and  honour. 


CHILDREN    OF    THE    KING.  55 

And  now  in  mid- June  they  are  at  home  again, 
since  Sorrento  is  their  home  now,  and  they  are 
inclined  to  take  a  turn  with  the  pleasure  boats 
by  way  of  a  change  and  engage  themselves  for 
the  summer,  Ruggiero  with  a  gentleman  from 
the  north  of  Italy  known  as  the  Conte  di  San 
Miniato,  and  Sebastiano  with  a  widowed  Sicilian 
lady  and  her  daughter,  the  Marchesa  di  Mola 
and  the  Signorina  Beatrice  Granmichele,  gener 
ally,  if  incorrectly,  spoken  of  as  Donna  Beatrice. 

Now  the  Conte  di  San  Miniato,  though  only 
a  count,  and  reputed  to  be  out  at  elbows,  if  not 
up  to  his  ears  in  debt,  is  the  sole  surviving 
representative  of  a  very  great  and  ancient 
family  in  the  north.  But  how  the  defunct 
Granmichele  got  his  title  of  Marchese  di  Mola, 
no  one  knows  precisely.  Two  things  are  cer 
tain,  that  his  father  never  had  a  title  at  all, 
and  that  he  himself  made  a  large  fortune  in 
sulphur  and  paving  stones,  so  that  his  only 
daughter  is  much  of  an  heiress,  and  his  elderly 
widow  has  a  handsome  income  to  spend  as  she 
pleases,  owns  in  Palermo  a  fine  palace  —  his 
torical  in  other  hands  —  is  the  possessor  of  a 
smartish  yacht,  a  cutter  of  thirty  tons  or  so, 


56  CHILDREN    OF    THE    KING. 

goes  to  Paris  once  and  to  Monte  Carlo  twice  in 
every  year,  brings  her  own  carriage  to  Sorrento 
in  the  summer,  and  lives  altogether  in  a  luxu 
rious  and  highly  correct  manner. 

She  is  a  tall,  thin  woman  of  forty  years  or 
thereabouts,  with  high  features,  dark  eyes,  a 
pale  olive  complexion,  black  hair  white  at  the 
temples,  considerable  taste  in  dress  and  an 
absolute  contempt  for  physical  exertion,  mental 
occupation  and  punctuality. 

Donna  Beatrice,  as  they  call  her  daughter,  is 
a  very  pretty  girl,  aged  nineteen  or  nearly,  of 
greyhound  build,  so  to  say,  by  turns  amazingly 
active  and  astonishingly  indolent,  capricious  and 
decided  in  her  caprices  while  they  last,  pas 
sionately  fond  of  dancing,  much  inclined  to 
amuse  herself  in  her  own  way  when  her  mother 
is  not  looking,  and  possessing  a  keen  sense  of 
prime  and  ultimate  social  ratios.  She  is  un 
usually  well  educated,  speaks  three  languages, 
knows  that  somehow  North  and  South  America 
are  not  exactly  the  same  as  the  Northern  and 
Southern  States,  has  heard  of  Virgil  and  the 
Crusades,  can  play  a  waltz  well,  and  possesses 
a  very  sweet  little  voice.  She  is  undoubtedly 


CHILDREN    OF    THE    KING.  57 

pretty.  Brown,  on  the  whole,  as  to  colouring 
—  brown  skin,  liquid  brown  eyes,  dark  brown 
hair  —  a  nose  not  regular  but  attractive,  a 
mouth  not  small  but  expressive,  eyebrows  not 
finely  pencilled,  neither  arched  nor  straight,  but 
laid  on  as  it  were  like  the  shadows  in  a  clever 
charcoal  drawing,  with  the  finger,  broad,  effec 
tive,  well  turned,  carelessly  set  in  the  right  place 
by  a  hand  that  never  makes  mistakes. 

It  is  the  intention  of  the  Marchesa  di  Mola 
to  marry  her  daughter  to  the  very  noble  and 
out-at-elbows  Count  of  San  Miniato  before  the 
summer  is  out.  It  is  also  the  intention  of  the 
Count  to  marry  Beatrice.  It  is  Beatrice's  inten 
tion  to  do  nothing  rashly,  but  to  take  as  much 
time  as  she  can  get  for  making  up  her  mind, 
and  then  to  do  exactly  as  she  pleases.  She  per 
fectly  appreciates  her  own  position  and  knows 
that  she  can  either  marry  a  rich  man  of  second- 
rate  family,  or  a  poor  man  of  good  blood,  a 
younger  son  or  a  half  ruined  gentleman  at  large 
like  San  Miniato,  and  she  hesitates.  She  is 
not  quite  sure  of  the  value  of  money  yet.  It 
might  be  delightful  to  be  even  much  richer 
than  she  is,  because  there  are  so  many  delight- 


58  CHILDREN    OF    THE    KING. 

ful  things  to  be  done  in  the  world  with  money 
alone.  But  it  might  turn  out  to  be  equally 
agreeable  to  have  a  great  name,  to  be  some 
body,  to  be  a  necessary  part  of  society  in 
short,  because  society  does  a  number  of  agree 
able  things  not  wholly  dependent  upon  cash 
for  being  pleasant,  and  indeed  often  largely 
dependent  on  credit. 

San  Miniato  attracts  her,  and  she  does  not 
deny  the  fact  to  herself.  He  is  handsome,  tall, 
fair,  graceful  and  exceedingly  well  dressed.  He 
was  several  years  in  a  cavalry  regiment  and 
is  reputed  to  have  left  the  service  in  order  to 
fight  with  a  superior  officer  whom  he  disliked. 
In  reality  his  straitened  means  may  have  had 
something  to  do  with  the  step.  At  all  events 
he  scratched  his  major  rather  severely  in  the 
duel  which  took  place,  and  has  the  reputation 
of  a  dangerous  man  with  the  sabre.  It  is  said 
that  the  major's  wife  had  something  to  do  with 
the  story.  At  present  San  Miniato  is  about 
thirty  years  of  age.  His  only  known  vice  is 
gambling,  which  is  perhaps  a  chief  source  of 
income  to  him.  Every  one  agrees  in  saying 
that  he  is  the  type  of  the  honourable  player,  and 


CHILDREN    OF    THE    KING.  59 

that,  if  he  wins  on  the  whole,  he  owes  his  win 
nings  to  his  superior  coolness  and  skill.  The 
fact  that  he  gambles  rather  lends  him  an  addi 
tional  interest  in  the  eyes  of  Beatrice,  whose 
mother  often  plays  and  who  would  like  to  play 
herself. 

Ruggiero,  who  is  to  be  San  Miniato's  boat 
man  this  summer,  is  waiting  outside  the 
Count's  door,  until  that  idle  gentleman  wakes 
from  his  late  sleep  and  calls  him.  The  final 
agreement  is  yet  to  be  made,  and  Ruggiero 
makes  calculations  upon  his  fingers  as  he  sits 
on  the  box  in  the  corridor.  The  Count  wants 
a  boat  and  three  sailors  by  the  month  and  if 
he  is  pleased,  will  keep  them  all  the  season. 
It  became  sufficiently  clear  to  Ruggiero  during 
the  first  interview  that  his  future  employer 
did  not  know  the  difference  between  a  barge 
and  a  felucca,  and  he  has  had  ocular  demon 
stration  that  the  Count  cannot  swim,  for  he 
has  seen  him  in  the  water  by  the  bathing- 
houses —  a  thorough  landsman  at  all  points. 
But  there  are  two  kinds  of  landsmen,  those 
who  are  afraid,  and  those  who  are  not,  as  Rug 
giero  well  knows.  The  first  kind  are  amusing 


60  CHILDREN    OF    THE    KING. 

and  the  sailors  get  more  fun  out  of  them  than 
they  know  of ;  the  second  kind  are  dangerous 
and  are  apt  to  get  more  out  of  the  sailor  than 
they  pay  for,  by  bullying  him  and  calling  him 
a  coward.  But  on  the  whole  Ruggiero,  being 
naturally  very  daring  and  singularly  indiffer 
ent  to  life  as  a  possession,  hopes  that  San 
Miniato  may  turn  out  to  be  of  the  unreasona 
bly  reckless  rather  than  of  the  tiresomely  timid 
class,  and  is  inclined  to  take  his  future  master's 
courage  for  granted  as  he  makes  his  calcula 
tions. 

"  I  will  take  the  Son  of  the  Fool  and  the 
Cripple,"  he  mutters  decisively.  "  They  are  good 
men,  and  we  can  always  have  the  Gull  for  a 
help  when  we  need  four." 

A  promising  crew,  by  the  names,  say  you  of 
the  North,  who  do  not  understand  Southern 
ways.  But  in  Sorrento  and  all  down  the  coast, 
most  seafaring  men  get  nicknames  under  which 
their  real  and  legal  appellations  disappear  com 
pletely  and  are  totally  forgotten. 

The  Fool,  whose  son  Ruggiero  meant  to 
engage,  had  earned  his  title  in  bygone  days  by 
dancing  an  English  hornpipe  for  the  amusement 


CHILDREN    OF    THE    KING.  61 

of  his  companions,  the  Gull  owed  his  to  the 
singular  length  and  shape  of  his  nose,  and  the 
Cripple  had  in  early  youth  worn  a  pair  of  over- 
tight  boots  on  Sundays,  whereby  he  had  limped 
sadly  on  the  first  day  of  every  week,  for  nearly 
two  years.  So  that  the  crew  were  all  sound  in 
mind  and  body  in  spite  of  their  alarming  names. 
Ruggiero  sat  on  the  box  and  waited,  meditat 
ing  upon  the  probable  occupations  of  gentle 
men  who  habitually  slept  till  ten  o'clock  in  the 
morning  and  sometimes  till  twelve.  From  time 
to  time  he  brushed  an  almost  imperceptible 
particle  of  dust  from  his  very  smart  blue  cloth 
knees,  and  settled  the  in-turned  collar  of  the 
perfectly  new  blue  guernsey  about  his  neck.  It 
was  new,  and  it  scratched  him  disagreeably,  but 
it  was  highly  necessary  to  present  a  prosperous 
as  well  ae  a  seamanlike  appearance  on  such  an 
important  occasion.  Nothing  could  have  been 
more  becoming  to  him  than  the  dark  close-fitting 
dress,  showing  as  it  did  the  immense  breadth 
and  depth  of  his  chest,  the  clean-cut  sinewy 
length  of  his  limbs  and  the  easy  grace  and 
strength  of  his  whole  carriage.  His  short 
straight  fair  hair  was  brushed,  too,  and  his 


62  CHILDREN    OF    THE    KING. 

young  yellow  beard  had  been  recently  trimmed. 
Altogether  a  fine  figure  of  a  man  as  he  sat  there 
waiting. 

Suddenly  he  was  aware  of  a  wonderful  vision 
moving  towards  him  down  the  broad  corridor  — 
a  lovely  dark  face  with  liquid  brown  eyes,  an 
exquisite  figure  clad  in  a  well-fitted  frock  of 
white  serge,  a  firm,  smooth  step  that  was  not 
like  any  step  he  had  ever  heard.  He  rose 
quickly  as  she  passed  him,  and  the  blood  rushed 
to  his  face,  up  to  the  very  roots  of  his  hair. 

Beatrice  was  too  much  of  a  woman  not  to  see 
the  effect  she  produced  upon  the  poor  sailor,  and 
she  nodded  gracefully  to  him,  in  acknowledg 
ment  of  his  politeness  in  rising.  As  she  did  so 
she  noticed  on  her  part  that  the  poor  sailor  was 
indeed  a  very  remarkable  specimen  of  a  man, 
such  as  she  had  not  often  seen.  She  stopped 
and  spoke  to  him. 

"Are  you  the  Count  of  San  Miniato's  boat 
man?"  she  asked  in  her  sweet  voice. 

"Yes,  Eccellenza,"  answered  Ruggiero,  still 
blushing  violently 

"  Then  he  has  engaged  the  boat  ?  We  want 
a  boat,  too  —  the  Marchesa  di  Mola  —  can  you 
get  us  one  ?" 


CHILDREN    OF    THE    KING.  63 

"  There  is  my  brother,  Eccellenza." 

"  Is  he  a  good  sailor  ? " 

"  Better  than  I,  Eccellenza." 

Beatrice  looked  at  the  figure  before  her  and 
smiled  graciously. 

"  Send  him  to  us  at  twelve  o'clock/'  she  said. 
"  The  Marchesa  di  Mola  —  do  not  forget." 

"  Yes,  Eccellenza." 

Ruggiero  bowed  respectfully,  while  Beatrice 
nodded  again  and  passed  on.  Then  he  sat  down 
again  and  waited,  but  his  fingers  no  longer 
moved  in  calculations  and  his  expression  had 
changed.  He  sat  still  and  stared  in  the  direc 
tion  of  the  corner  beyond  which  the  young  girl 
had  disappeared.  He  was  conscious  for  the  first 
time  in  his  life  that  he  possessed  a  heart,  for  the 
thing  thumped  and  kicked  violently  under  his 
blue  guernsey,  and  he  looked  down  at  his  broad 
chest  with  an  odd  expression  of  half-childish 
curiosity,  fully  expecting  to  see  an  outward  and 
visible  motion  corresponding  with  the  inward 
hammering.  But  he  saw  nothing.  Solid  ribs 
and  solid  muscles  kept  the  obstreperous  machine 
in  its  place. 

"  Malora  !  "  he  ejaculated  to  himself.  "  Worse 
than  a  cat  in  a  sack !  " 


64  CHILDREN    OF    THE    KING. 

His  hands,  too,  were  quite  cold,  though  it  was 
a  warm  day.  He  noticed  the  fact  as  he  passed 
his  thumb  for  the  hundredth  time  round  his 
neck  where  the  hard  wool  scratched  him.  To 
tell  the  truth  he  was  somewhat  alarmed.  He 
had  never  been  ill  a  day  in  his  life,  had  never 
had  as  much  as  a  headache,  a  bad  cold  or  a 
touch  of  fever,  and  he  began  to  think  that  some 
thing  must  be  wrong.  He  said  to  himself  that 
if  such  a  thing  happened  to  him  again  he  would 
go  to  the  chemist  and  ask  for  some  medicine. 
His  strength  was  the  chief  of  his  few  possessions, 
he  thought,  and  it  would  be  better  to  spend  a 
franc  at  the  chemist's  than  to  let  it  be  endan 
gered.  It  was  a  serious  matter.  Suppose  that 
the  young  lady,  instead  of  speaking  to  him 
about  a  boat,  had  told  him  to  pick  up  the  box 
on  which  he  was  sitting  —  one  of  those  big 
boxes  these  foreigners  travel  with  —  and  to 
carry  it  upstairs,  he  would  have  cut  a  poor 
figure  just  at  that  moment,  when  his  heart  was 
thumping  like  a  flat-fish  in  the  bottom  of  a  boat, 
and  his  hands  were  trembling  with  cold.  If  it 
chanced  again,  he  would  certainly  go  to  Don 
Ciccio  the  chemist  and  buy  a  dose  of  something 


CHILDBEK    OF    THE    KING.  65 

with  a  strong  bad  taste,  the  stronger  and  the 
worse  flavoured  the  better,  of  course,  as  every 
one  knew.  Very  alarming,  these  symptoms  ! 

Then  he  fell  to  thinking  of  the  young  lady 
herself,  and  she  seemed  to  rise  before  him,  just 
as  he  had  seen  her  a  few  moments  earlier.  The 
signs  of  his  new  malady  immediately  grew 
worse  again,  and  when  it  somehow  struck  him 
that  he  might  serve  her,  and  let  Sebastiano  be 
boatman  to  the  Count,  the  pounding  at  his  ribs 
became  positively  terrifying,  and  he  jumped  up 
and  began  to  walk  about.  Just  then  the  door 
opened  suddenly  and  San  Miniato  put  out  his 
head. 

"  Are  you  the  sailor  who  is  to  get  me  a  boat  ? " 
he  asked. 

"  Yes,  Eccellenza,"  answered  Ruggiero  turning 
quickly,  cap  in  hand.  Strange  to  say,  at  the 
sound  of  the  man's  voice  the  alarming  symptoms 
totally  disappeared  and  Ruggiero  was  quite  him 
self  again. 

He  remembered  also  that  he  had  been  engaged 
for  the  Count,  through  the  people  of  the  hotel, 
on  condition  of  approval,  and  that  it  would  be 
contrary  to  boatman's  honour  to  draw  back. 


66  CHILDREN    OF    THE    KING. 

After  all,  too,  women  in  a  boat  were  always  a 
nuisance  at  the  best,  and  he  liked  the  Count's 
face,  and  decided  that  he  was  not  of  the  type  of 
landsmen  who  are  frightened.  The  interview 
did  not  last  long. 

"  I  shall  wish  to  make  excursions  in  all  direc 
tions,"  said  San  Miniato.  "I  do  not  know 
anything  about  the  sea,  but  I  dislike  people  who 
make  difficulties  and  talk  to  me  of  bad  weather 
when  I  mean  to  go  anywhere.  Do  you  under 
stand?" 

"  We  will  try  to  content  your  excellency," 
answered  Ruggiero  quietly. 

"Good.     We  shall  see." 

So  Ruggiero  went  away  to  find  the  Son  of  the 
Fool,  and  the  Cripple,  and  to  engage  them  for 
the  summer,  and  to  deliver  to  his  brother  the 
message  from  the  Marchesa  di  Mola.  The 
reason  why  Ruggiero  did  not  take  Sebastiano  as 
one  of  his  own  crew  was  a  simple  one.  There 
lived  and  still  lives  at  Sorrento,  a  certain  old 
man  known  as  the  Greek.  The  Greek  is  old 
and  infirm  and  has  a  vicious  predilection  for 
wine  and  cards,  so  that  he  is  quite  unfit  for  the 
sea.  But  he  owns  a  couple  of  smart  sailing 


CHILDREN    OF    THE    KING.  67 

boats  and  gets  a  living  by  letting  them  to 
strangers.  It  is  necessary,  however,  to  have  at 
least  one  perfectly  reliable  man  in  charge  of 
each,  and  so  soon  as  the  Children  of  the  King 
had  returned  from  their  last  long  voyage  the 
Greek  had  engaged  them  both  for  this  purpose, 
as  being  in  every  way  superior  to  the  common 
run  of  boatmen  who  hung  about  the  place  wait 
ing  for  jobs.  It  was  consequently  impossible 
that  the  two  brothers  could  be  in  the  same 
boat's  crew  during  the  summer. 

Ruggiero  found  the  Cripple  asleep  in  the 
shade,  having  been  out  all  night  fishing,  and  the 
Son  of  the  Fool  was  seated  not  far  from  him, 
plaitmg  sinnet  for  gaskets.  The  two  were  in 
separable,  so  far  as  their  varied  life  permitted 
them  to  be  together,  and  were  generally  to  be 
found  in  the  same  crew.  Average  able  seamen 
both,  much  of  the  same  height  and  build,  broad, 
heavy  fellows  good  at  the  oar,  peaceable  and 
uncomplaining. 

While  Ruggiero  was  talking  with  the  one  who 
was  awake,  his  own  brother  appeared,  and  Rug 
giero  gave  him  the  message,  whereupon  Sebasti- 
ano  went  off  to  array  himself  in  his  best  before 


68  CHILDREN    OF    THE    KING. 

presenting  himself   to  the  Marchesa   di   Mola. 
The  Son  of  the  Fool  gathered  up  his  work. 

"  Mola  ?  "  he  repeated  in  a  tone  of  inquiry. 

Ruggiero  nodded  carelessly. 

"  A  Sicilian  lady  who  has  a  cutter  ?  " 

«  Yes." 

"  Her  daughter  Is  going  to  marry  a  certain 
Conte  di  San  Miniato — a  great  signore — of 
those  without  soldi." 

The  sailor  coiled  the  plaited  sinnet  neatly  over 
his  bare  arm,  but  looked  up  as  Ruggiero  uttered 
an  exclamation. 

"  What  is  the  matter  with  you  ?"  he  asked. 

Ruggiero' s  face  was  quite  red  and  his  broad 
chest  heaved  as  he  bit  his  lip  and  thrust  his 
hands  into  his  pockets.  His  companion  repeated 
his  question. 

"  Nothing  is  the  matter,"  answered  Ruggiero. 
"  Wake  up  the  Cripple  and  see  if  there  is 
everything  for  rigging  the  boat.  We  must  have 
her  out  this  afternoon.  The  Conte  di  San 
Miniato  of  whom  you  speak  is  our  signore." 

"  Oh !  I  understand!  "  exclaimed  the  Son  of 
the  Fool.  "  Well  —  you  need  not  be  so  anxious. 
I  daresay  it  is  not  true  that  he  has  no  money, 
and  at  all  events  the  Greek  will  pay  us." 


CHILDKEN    OF    THE    KING.  69 

"  Of  course,  the  Greek  will  pay  us,"  answered 
Ruggiero  thoughtfully.  "  I  will  be  back  in  half 
an  hour,"  he  added,  turning  away  abruptly. 

He  walked  rapidly  up  the  steep  paved  ascent 
which  leads  through  the  narrow  gorge  from  the 
small  beach  to  the  town  above.  A  few  minutes 
later  he  entered  the  chemist's  shop  for  the  first 
time  in  his  life  in  search  of  medicine  for  him 
self.  He  took  off  his  cap  and  looked  about  him 
with  some  curiosity,  eying  the  long  rows  of  old- 
fashioned  majolica  drug  jars,  and  the  stock  of 
bottles  of  all  colours  and  labels  in  the  glass  cases. 
The  chemist  was  a  worthy  old  creature  with  a 
white  beard  and  solemn  ways. 

"What  do  you  want  ?"  he  inquired. 

"A  little  medicine,  but  good,"  answered  Rug 
giero,  looking  critically  along  the  shelves,  as 
though  to  select  a  remedy.  "A  little  of  the 
best,"  he  added,  jingling  a  few  silver  coins  in  his 
pockets  and  wondering  how  much  the  stuff  would 
cost. 

"  But  what  kind  .of  medicine  ?  "  asked  the  old 
man.  "  Do  you  feel  ill  ?  Where  ? " 

"  Here,"  answered  Ruggiero  bringing  his  heavy 
bony  hand  down  upon  his  huge  chest  with  a 


70  CHILDREN    OF    THE    KING. 

noise  that  made  the  chemist  start,  and  then 
chuckle. 

"Just  there,  eh?"  said  the  latter  ironically. 
"  You  have  the  health  of  a  horse.  Go  to  dinner." 

"  I  tell  you  it  is  there,"  returned  Ruggiero. 
"  Sometimes  it  is  quite  quiet,  as  it  is  now,  but 
sometimes  it  jumps  and  threshes  like  a  dolphin 
at  sea." 

"  H'm  !  The  heart,  eh  ?  "  The  old  man  came 
round  his  counter  and  applied  his  ear  to  Rug- 
giero's  breast.  "Regular  as  a  steam  engine," 
he  said.  "  When  does  it  jump,  as  you  call  it  ? 
When  you  go  up  hill  ?  " 

Ruggiero  laughed. 

"Am  I  old  or  fat?"  he  inquired  contemptu 
ously.  "  It  happened  first  this  morning.  I  was 
waiting  in  the  hotel  and  a  lady  came  by  and 
spoke  to  me  —  about  a  certain  boat." 

"  A  lady  ?  H'm  !  Young  perhaps,  and  pretty  ?  " 

"  That  is  my  business.  Then  half  an  hour 
later  I  was  talking  to  the  Son  of  the  Fool.  You 
know  him  I  daresay.  And  it  began  to  jump 
again,  and  I  said  to  myself,  '  "  Health  is  the  first 
thing,"  as  the  old  people  say.'  So  I  came  for 
the  medicine." 


CHILDREN    OF    THE    KING.  71 

The  chemist  chuckled  audibly. 

"  And  what  were  you  talking  about  ?  "  he 
asked.  "The  lady?" 

"It  is  true/'  answered  Ruggiero  in  a  tone  of 
reflection.  "  The  Son  of  the  Fool  was  telling 
me  that  the  lady  is  to  marry  my  signore." 

"  And  you  want  medicine  !  "  cried  the  old  man, 
laughing  aloud.  "Imbecile!  Have  you  never 
been  in  love  ?  " 

Ruggiero  stared  at  him. 

"  Eh !  A  girl  here  and  there  —  in  Buenos 
Ayres,  in  New  Orleans  —  what  has  that  to  do 
with  it  ?  You  —  what  the  malora  —  the  plague 
—  are  you  talking  about  ?  Eh  ?  Explain  a 
little." 

"  You  had  better  go  back  to  Buenos  Ayres,  or 
to  some  other  place  where  you  will  not  see  the 
lady  any  more/'  said  the  chemist.  "  You  are  in 
love  with  her.  That  is  all  the  matter." 

"  I,  with  a  gran'  signora,  a  great  lady  !  You 
are  crazy,  Don  Ciccio!  " 

"  Crazy  or  not  —  tell  me  to-morrow  whether 
your  heart  does  not  beat  every  time  she  looks 
at  you.  As  for  her  being  a  great  lady  —  we  are 
men,  and  they  are  women." 


72  CHILDREN    OF    THE    KING. 

The  chemist  had  socialistic  ideas  of  his  own. 

"  To  please  you,"  said  Ruggiero,  "  I  will  go  and 
see  her  now,  and  I  will  be  back  in  an  hour  to  tell 
you  that  you  do  not  understand  your  business. 
My  brother  is  to  go  there  at  twelve  and  I  will 
go  with  him.  Of  course  I  shall  see  her." 

He  turned  to  go,  but  stopped  suddenly  on  the 
threshold  and  came  back. 

"  There  !  "  he  cried  triumphantly.  "  There  it 
is  again,  but  not  so  hard  this  time.  Is  the  lady 
here,  now  ? "  He  pushed  his  chest  against  the 
old  man's  ear. 

"  Madonna  mia  !  What  a  machine  !  "  ex 
claimed  the  latter,  after  listening  a  moment. 
"  If  I  had  a  heart  like  that !  " 

"Now  you  see  for  yourself,"  said  Ruggiero. 
"  I  want  the  best  medicine." 

But  again  the  chemist  broke  into  a  laugh. 

"  Medicine  !  A  medicine  for  love  !  Do  you 
not  see  that  it  began  to  beat  at  the  thought 
of  seeing  her  ?  Go  and  try  it,  as  you  proposed. 
Then  you  will  understand." 

"I  understand  that  you  are  crazy.  But  I 
will,  try  it  all  the  same." 

Thereupon  Ruggiero  strode  out  of  the  shop 


CHILDREN    OF    THE    KING.  73 

without  further  words,  considerably  disappointed 
and  displeased  with  the  result  of  the  interview. 
The  chemist  apparently  took  him  for  a  fool.  It 
was  absurd  to  suppose  that  the  sight  of  any 
woman,  or  the  mention  of  any  woman,  could 
make  a  man's  heart  behave  in  such  a  way,  and 
yet  he  was  obliged  to  admit  that  the  coincidence 
was  undeniable. 

He  found  his  brother  just  coming  out  of  the 
house  in  which  they  lodged,  arrayed  at  all  points 
exactly  like  himself.  Sebastiano's  young  beard 
was  not  quite  so  thick,  his  eyes  were  a  little 
softer,  his  movements  a  trifle  less  energetically 
direct  than  Ruggiero's,  and  he  was,  perhaps,  an 
inch  shorter ;  but  the  resemblance  was  extraor 
dinary  and  would  have  struck  any  one. 

They  were  admitted  to  the  presence  of  the 
Marchesa  di  Mola  in  due  time.  She  lay  in  a 
deep  chair  under  the  arches  of  her  terrace, 
shaded  by  brown  linen  curtains,  languid,  idle, 
indifferent  as  ever. 

"  Beatrice  !  "  she  called  in  a  lazy  tone,  as  the 
two  men  stood  still  at  a  respectful  distance, 
waiting  to  be  addressed. 

But  instead  of  Beatrice,  a  maid  appeared  at  a 


74  CHILDREN    OF    THE    KING. 

door  at  the  other  end  of  the  terrace  —  a  fresh 
young  thing  with  rosy  cheeks,  brown  hair, 
sparkling  black  eyes  and  a  pretty  figure. 

"  Call  Donna  Beatrice,"  said  the  Marchesa. 
Then,  as  though  exhausted  by  the  effort  of 
speaking  she  closed  her  eyes  and  waited. 

The  maid  cast  a  quick  glance  at  the  two 
handsome  sailors  and  disappeared  again.  Rug- 
giero  and  Sebastiano  stood  motionless,  only  their 
eyes  turning  from  side  to  side  and  examining 
everything  with  the  curiosity  habitual  in  sea 
men. 

Presently  Beatrice  entered,  looked  at  them  both 
for  a  moment  and  then  went  up  to  her  mother. 

"  It  is  for  the  boat,  mamma,"  she  said.  "  Do 
you  wish  me  to  arrange  about  it  ? " 

"Of  course,"  answered  the  Marchesa  opening 
her  eyes  and  immediately  shutting  them  again. 

Beatrice  stepped  aside  and  beckoned  the  two 
men  to  her.  To  Ruggiero's  infinite  surprise,  he 
again  felt  the  blood  rushing  to  his  face,  and  his 
heart  began  to  pound  his  ribs  like  a  fuller's 
hammer.  He  glanced  at  his  brother  and  saw 
that  he  was  perfectly  self-possessed.  Beatrice 
looked  from  one  to  the  other  in  perplexity. 


CHILDREN    OF    THE    KING.  75 

"You  are  so  much  alike !"  she  exclaimed. 
"With  which  of  you  did  I  speak  this  morn- 
ing?" 

"  With  me,  Eccellenza,"  said  Ruggiero,  whose 
own  voice  sounded  strangely  in  his  ears.  "And 
this  is  my  brother/'  he  added. 

The  arrangement  was  soon  made,  but  during 
the  short  interchange  of  questions  and  answers 
Ruggiero  could  not  take  his  eyes  from  Beatrice's 
face.  Possibly  he  was  not  even  aware  that  it 
was  rude  to  stare  at  a  lady,  for  his  education 
had  not  been  got  in  places  where  ladies  are 
often  seen,  or  manners  frequently  discussed. 
But  Beatrice  did  not  seem  at  all  disturbed  by 
the  scrutiny,  though  she  was  quite  aware  of  its 
pertinacity.  A  woman  who  has  beauty  in  any 
degree  rarely  resents  the  genuine  and  uncon 
cealed  admiration  of  the  vulgar.  On  the  con 
trary,  as  the  young  girl  dismissed  the  men,  she 
smiled  graciously  upon  them  both,  and  perhaps 
a  little  the  more  upon  Ruggiero,  though  there 
was  not  much  to  choose. 

Neither  of  them  spoke  as  they  descended  the 
stairs  of  the  hotel,  and  went  out  through  the 
garden  to  the  gate.  When  they  were  in 


76  CHILDREN    OF    THE    KING. 

the  square  beyond  Ruggiero  stopped.  Sebas- 
tiano  stood  still  also  and  looked  at  him. 

"  Does  your  heart  ever  jump  arid  turn  somer 
saults  and  get  into  your  mouth,  when  you  look 
at  a  woman,  Bastianello  ? "  he  asked. 

"  No.     Does  yours  ? " 

"  Yes.     Just  now." 

"I  saw  her,  too,"  answered  Sebastiano.  "It 
is  true  that  she  is  very  fresh  and  pretty,  and 
uncommonly  clean.  Eh  —  the  devil!  If  you 
like  her,  ask  for  her.  The  maid  of  a  Marchesa 
is  sure  to  have  money  and  to  be  a  respectable 
girl." 

Ruggiero  was  silent  for  a  moment  and  looked 
at  his  brother  with  an  odd  expression,  as  though 
he  were  going  to  say  something.  Unfortunately 
for  him,  for  Sebastiano,  for  the  maid,  for  Bea 
trice,  and  for  the  count  of  San  Miniato,  too,  he 
said  nothing.  Instead,  he  produced  half  a  cigar 
from  his  cap,  and  two  sulphur  matches,  and 
incontinently  began  to  smoke. 

"It  is  lucky  that  both  boats  are  engaged  on 
the  same  day,"  observed  Sebastiano.  "The 
Greek  will  be  pleased.  He  will  play  all  the 
numbers  at  the  lottery." 


CHILDREN    OF    THE    KING.  77 

"And  get  very  drunk  to-night/'  added  Rug- 
giero  with  contempt. 

"  Of  course.  But  he  is  a  good  padrone,  every 
body  says,  and  does  not  cheat  his  men." 

"  I  hope  not," 

By  and  by  the  two  went  down  to  the  beach 
again,  and  Sebastiano  looked  about  him  for  a 
crew.  The  Marchesa  wanted  four  men  in  her 
boat,  or  even  five,  and  Sebastiano  picked  out  at 
once  the  Gull,  the  Son  of  the  American,  Black 
Rag  —  otherwise  known  as  Saint  Peter  from  his 
resemblance  to  the  pictures  of  the  Apostle  as  a 
fisherman  —  and  the  Deaf  Man.  The  latter  is 
a  fellow  of  strange  ways,  who  lost  his  hearing 
from  falling  into  the  water  in  winter  when  over 
heated,  and  who  has  almost  lost  the  power  of 
speech  in  consequence,  but  a  good  sailor  withal, 
tough,  untiring,  and  patient. 

They  all  set  to  work  with  a  good  will,  and 
before  four  o'clock  that  day  the  two  boats  were 
launched,  ballasted  and  rigged,  the  sails  were 
bent  to  the  yards  and  the  brasses  polished,  so 
that  Ruggiero  and  Sebastiano  went  up  to  their 
respective  masters  to  ask  if  there  were  any 
orders  for  the  afternoon. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

RUGGIERO  found  out  before  long  that  his 
master  for  the  summer  was  eccentric  in  his 
habits,  judging  from  the  Sorrentine  point  of 
view  in  regard  to  order  and  punctuality.  Rug- 
giero's  experience  of  fine  gentlemen  was  limited 
indeed,  but  he  could  not  believe  that  they  all 
behaved  like  San  Miniato,  whose  temper  was 
apparently  as  changeable  as  his  tastes.  Some 
times  he  went  to  bed  at  nine  o'clock  and  rose  at 
dawn.  Sometimes  on  the  other  hand  he  got  up 
at  seven  in  the  evening  and  went  to  bed  by  day 
light.  Sometimes  everything  Ruggiero  did  was 
right,  and  sometimes  everything  was  wrong. 
There  were  days  when  the  Count  could  not  be 
induced  to  move  from  the  Marchesa  di  Mola's 
terrace  between  noon  and  midnight  or  later,  and 
again  there  were  days  when  he  went  off  in  his 
boat  in  the  morning  and  did  not  return  until  the 
last  stragglers  on  the  terrace  of  the  hotel  were 
ready  to  go  to  bed.  He  was  irregular  even  in 

78 


CHILDREN    OF    THE    KING.  79 

playing,  which  was  after  all  his  chief  pastime. 
Possibly  he  knew  of  reasons  why  it  should  be 
good  to  gamble  on  one  day  and  not  upon  another. 
Then  he  had  his  fits  of  amateur  seamanship, 
when  he  would  insist  upon  taking  the  tiller  from 
Ruggiero's  hand.  The  latter,  on  such  occasions, 
remained  perched  upon  the  stern  in  case  of  an 
emergency.  San  Miniato  was  a  thorough  lands 
man  and  never  understood  why  the  wind  always 
seemed  to  change,  or  die  away,  or  do  something 
unexpected  so  soon  as  he  began  to  steer  the 
boat.  From  time  to  time  Ruggiero,  by  way  of 
a  mild  hint,  held  up  his  palm  to  the  breeze,  but 
San  Miniato  did  not  know  what  the  action 
meant.  Ruggiero  trimmed  the  sails  to  suit  the 
course  chosen  by  his  master  as  well  as  possible, 
but  straightway  the  boat  was  up  in  the  wind 
again  if  she  had  been  going  free,  or  was  falling 
off  if  the  tacks  were  down  and  the  sheets  well  aft. 
San  Miniato  was  one  of  those  men  who  seem 
quite  incapable  of  doing  anything  sensible  from 
the  moment  they  leave  the  land  till  they  touch  it 
again,  when  their  normal  common  sense  returns, 
and  they  once  more  become  human  beings. 
On  the  other  hand  nothing  frightened  him, 


80  CHILDREN    OF    THE    KING. 

though  he  could  not  swim  a  stroke.  More  than 
once  Ruggiero  allowed  him  almost  to  upset  the 
boat  in  a  squall,  and  more  than  once,  when 
steering  himself,  and  when  there  was  a  fresh 
breeze,  drove  her  till  the  seas  broke  over  the 
bows,  and  the  green  water  came  in  over  the  lee 
gunwale  —  just  to  see  whether  the  Count  would 
change  colour.  In  this,  however,  he  was  disap 
pointed.  San  Miniato's  temper  might  change 
and  his  tastes  might  be  as  variable  as  the  moon, 
or  the  weather,  but  his  face  rarely  expressed 
anything  of  what  he  felt,  and  if  he  felt  any 
thing  at  such  times  it  was  assuredly  not  fear. 
He  had  good  qualities,  and  courage  was  one 
of  them,  if  courage  may  be  called  a  quality 
at  all.  Ruggiero  was  not  at  all  sure  that  his 
new  master  liked  the  sea,  and  it  is  possible  that 
the  Count  was  not  sure  of  the  fact  himself ;  but 
for  the  time,  it  suited  him  to  sail  as  much  as 
possible,  because  Beatrice  Granmichele  was  fond 
of  it,  and  would  therefore  amuse  herself  with 
excursions  hither  and  thither  during  the  sum 
mer.  As  her  mother  rarely  accompanied  her, 
San  Miniato  could  not,  according  to  the  cus 
toms  of  the  country,  join  her  in  her  boat, 


CHILDREN    OF    THE    KING.  81 

and  the  next  best  thing  was  to  keep  one  for 
himself  and  to  be  as  often  as  possible  alongside 
of  her,  and  ready  to  go  ashore  with  her  if  she 
took  a  fancy  to  land  in  some  quiet  spot. 

The  Marchesa  di  Mola,  having  quite  made  up 
her  mind  that  her  daughter  should  marry  San 
Miniato,  and  being  almost  too  indolent  about 
minor  matters  to  care  for  appearances,  would 
have  allowed  the  two  to  be  together  from  morn 
ing  till  night  under  the  very  least  shadow  of  a 
chaperon's  supervision,  if  Beatrice  herself  had 
shown  a  greater  inclination  for  San  Miniato's 
society  than  she  actually  did.  But  Beatrice 
was  the  only  one  of  the  party  who  had  arrived 
at  no  distinct  determination  in  the  matter. 
San  Miniato  attracted  her,  and  was  very  well  in 
his  way,  but  that  was  all.  Amidst  the  shoals 
of  migratory  Neapolitans  with  magnificent  titles 
and  slender  purses,  who  appeared,  disported 
themselves  and  disappeared  again,  at  the  sum 
mer  resort,  it  was  quite  possible  that  one  might 
be  found  with  more  to  recommend  him  than 
San  Miniato  could  boast.  Most  of  them  were 
livelier  than  he,  and  certainly  all  were  noisier. 
Many  of  them  had  very  bright  black  eyes, 


82  CHILDREN    OF    THE    KING. 

which  Beatrice  liked,  and  they  were  all  dressed 
a  little  beyond  the  extreme  of  the  fashion,  a 
fact  of  which  she  was  too  young  to  understand 
the  psychological  value  in  judging  of  men. 
Some  of  them  sang  very  prettily,  and  San 
Miniato  did  not  possess  any  similar  accomplish 
ment.  Indeed,  in  the  young  girl's  opinion,  he 
approached  dangerously  near  to  being  a  "  seri 
ous  "  man,  as  the  Italians  express  it,  and  but 
for  his  known  love  of  gambling  he  might  have 
seemed  to  her  altogether  too  dull  a  personage  to 
be  thought  of  as  a  possible  husband.  It  is  not 
easy  to  define  exactly  what  is  meant  in  Italian 
by  a  "  serious "  man.  The  word  does  not  ex 
actly  translate  the  French  equivalent,  still  less 
the  English  one.  It  means  something  in  the 
nature  of  a  Philistine  with  a  little  admixture  of 
Ciceronism  —  pass  the  word  —  and  a  dash  of 
Cato  Censor  to  sour  the  whole  —  a  delight  to 
school-masterly  spirits,  a  terror  to  lively  damsels, 
the  laughing-stock  of  the  worldly  wise  and  only 
just  too  wise  to  find  a  congenial  atmosphere  in 
the  everyday  world.  However,  as  San  Miniato 
just  escaped  the  application  of  the  adjective  I 
have  been  trying  to  translate,  it  is  enough  to 


CHILDREN    OF    THE    KING.  83 

say  that  he  was  not  exactly  a  "serious  man/' 
being  excluded  from  that  variety  of  the  species 
by  his  passion  for  play,  which  was  dominant, 
and  by  the  incidents  of  his  past  history,  which 
had  not  been  dull. 

It  is  true  that  a  liking  for  cards  and  a  reputa 
tion  for  success  gained  in  former  love  affairs  are 
not  in  any  sense  a  substitute  for  the  outward  and 
attractive  expressions  of  a  genuine  and  present 
passion,  but  they  are  better  than  nothing  when 
they  serve  to  combat  such  a  formidable  imputa 
tion  as  that  of  "  seriousness."  Anything  is 
better  than  that,  and  as  Beatrice  Granmichele 
was  inclined  to  like  the  man  without  knowing 
why,  she  made  the  most  of  the  few  stories 
about  him  which  reached  her  maiden  ears,  and 
of  his  taste  for  gaming,  in  order  to  render  him 
interesting  in  her  own  eyes.  He  did,  indeed, 
make  more  or  less  pretty  speeches  to  her  from 
time  to  time,  of  a  cheerfully  complimentary 
character  when  he  had  won  money,  of  a  grace 
fully  melancholy  nature  when  he  had  lost,  but 
she  was  far  too  womanly  not  to  miss  something 
very  essential  in  what  he  said  and  in  his  way  of 
saying  it.  A  woman  may  love  flattery  ever  so 


84  CHILDREN    OF    THE    KING. 

much  and  have  ever  so  strong  a  moral  absorbent 
system  with  which  to  digest  it ;  she  does  not 
hate  banality  the  less.  There  is  no  such  word 
as  banality  in  the  English  tongue,  but  there 
might  be,  and  if  there  were,  it  would  mean  that 
peculiarly  tasteless  and  saltless  nature  of  actions 
and  speeches  done  and  delivered  by  persons  who 
are  born  dull,  or  who  are  mentally  exhausted, 
or  are  absent-minded,  or  very  shy,  but  who, 
in  spite  of  natural  or  accidental  disadvantages 
are  determined  to  make  themselves  agreeable. 
The  standard  of  banality  differs  indeed  for  every 
woman,  and  with  every  woman  for  almost  every 
hour  of  the  day,  and  men  of  the  world  who 
husband  their  worldly  resources  are  aware  of  the 
fact.  Angelina  at  three  in  the  afternoon,  fresh 
from  rest  and  luncheon  —  if  both  agree  with  her 
—  is  wreathed  in  smiles  at  a  little  speech  of 
Edwin's  which  would  taste  like  sweet  camomile 
tea  after  dry  champagne,  at  three  in  the  morn 
ing,  when  the  Hungarian  music  is  ringing  madly 
in  her  ears  and  there  are  only  two  more  waltzes 
on  the  programme.  Music,  dancing,  lights  and 
heat  are  to  a  woman  of  the  world  what  strong 
drinks  are  to  a  normal  man ;  they  may  not 


CHILDREN    OF    THE    KING.  85 

intoxicate,  but  they  change  the  humour.  For 
tunately  for  San  Miniato  the  young  lady  whom 
he  wished  to  marry  was  not  just  at  present  ex 
posed  to  the  action  of  those  stimulants,  and  her 
moods  were  tolerably  even.  If  he  had  been  at 
all  eloquent,  the  same  style  of  eloquence  would 
have  done  almost  as  well  after  dinner  as  after 
breakfast.  But  the  secret  springs  of  love  speech 
were  dried  up  in  his  brain  by  the  haunting  con 
sciousness  that  much  was  expected  of  him.  He 
had  never  before  thought  of  marrying  and  had 
not  yet  in  his  life  found  himself  for  any  length 
of  time  constantly  face  to  face  in  conversation 
with  a  young  girl,  with  limitations  of  propriety 
and  the  fear  of  failure  before  his  eyes.  The 
situation  was  new  and  uncomfortable.  He  felt 
like  a  man  who  has  got  a  hat  which  does  not 
belong  to  him,  which  does  not  fit  him  and  which 
will  not  stay  on  his  head  in  a  high  wind.  The 
consequence  was  that  his  talk  lacked  interest, 
and  that  he  often  did  not  talk  at  all.  Neverthe 
less,  he  managed  to  show  enough  assiduity  to 
keep  himself  continually  in  the  foreground  of 
Beatrice's  thoughts.  Being  almost  constantly 
present  she  could  not  easily  forget  him,  and  he 


86  CHILDREN    OF    THE    KING. 

held  his  ground  with  a  determination  which 
kept  other  men  away.  When  a  man  can  make 
a  woman  think  of  him  half-a-dozen  times  a  day 
and  can  prevent  other  men  from  taking  his  place 
when  he  is  beside  her,  he  is  in  a  fair  way  to 
success. 

On  a  certain  evening  San  Miniato  had  a  final 
interview  with  the  Marchesa  di  Mola  in  which 
he  expressed  all  that  he  felt  for  Beatrice,  includ 
ing  a  little  more,  and  in  which  he  described 
his  not  very  prosperous  financial  condition  with 
mitigated  frankness.  The  Marchesa  listened 
dreamily  in  the  darkness  on  the  terrace  while  her 
daughter  played  soft  dance  music  in  the  dimly 
lighted  room  behind  her.  Beatrice  probably 
had  an  idea  of  what  was  going  on  outside,  upon 
the  terrace,  and  was  trying  to  make  up  her  own 
mind.  She  played  waltzes  very  prettily,  as 
women  who  dance  well  generally  do,  if  they 
play  at  all. 

When  San  Miniato  had  finished,  the  Marchesa 
was  silent  for  a  few  seconds.  Then  she  tapped 
her  companion  twice  upon  the  arm  with  her  fan, 
in  a  way  which  would  have  seemed  lazy  in  any  one 
else,  but  which,  for  her,  wras  unusually  energetic. 


CHILDKEN    OF    THE    KING.  87 

"  How  well  you  say  it  all !  "  she  exclaimed. 

"And  you  consent,  dear  Marchesa?"  asked 
the  Count,  with  an  eagerness  not  all  feigned. 

"  You  say  it  all  so  well !  If  I  could  say  it 
half  so  well  to  Beatrice  —  there  might  be  some 
possibility.  But  Beatrice  is  not  like  me  —  nor 
I  like  you  —  and  so  — " 

She  broke  off  in  the  middle  of  the  sentence 
with  an  indolent  little  laugh. 

"If  she  were  like  you,"  said  San  Miniato,  "I 
would  not  hesitate  long." 

There  was  an  intonation  in  his  voice  that 
pleased  the  middle-aged  woman,  as  he  had 
intended. 

"What  would  you  do?"  she  asked,  fanning 
herself  slowly  in  the  dark. 

"  I  would  speak  to  her  myself." 

"  Heavens  !  "  Again  the  Marchesa  laughed. 
The  idea  seemed  eccentric  enough  in  her  eyes. 

«  Why  not  ?  " 

"  Why  not  ?  Dearest  San  Miniato,  do  not 
try  to  make  me  argue  such  insane  questions 
with  you.  You  know  how  lazy  I  am.  I  can 
never  talk." 

"  A  woman  need  not  talk  in  order  to  be  per- 


88  CHILDREN    OF    THE    KING. 

suaded.  It  is  enough  that  the  man  should. 
Let  me  try." 

"  I  will  shut  my  ears." 

"  I  will  kneel  at  your  feet." 

"  I  shall  go  to  sleep." 

"I  could  wake  you." 

"How?" 

"By  telling  you  that  I  mean  to  speak  to 
Donna  Beatrice  myself." 

"  Such  an  idea  would  wake  the  dead !  " 

"  So  much  the  better.     They  would  hear  me." 

"  They  would  not  help  you,  if  they  heard 
you,"  observed  the  Marchesa. 

"  They  could  at  least  bear  witness  to  the 
answer  I  should  receive." 

"  And  suppose,  dear  friend,  that  the  answer 
should  not  be  what  you  wish,  or  expect  —  would 
you  care  to  have  witnesses,  alive  or  dead  ? " 

"  Why  should  the  answer  be  a  negative  ?  " 

"Because,"  replied  the  Marchesa,  turning  her 
face  directly  to  his,  "  because  Beatrice  is  herself 
uncertain.  You  know  well  enough  that  no  man 
should  ever  tell  a  woman  he  loves  her  until  he 
is  sure  that  she  loves  him.  And  that  is  not  the 
only  reason." 


CHILDREN    OF    THE    KING.  89 

"  Have  you  a  better  one  ? "  asked  San  Miniato 
with  a  laugh. 

"  The  impossibility  of  it  all !  Imagine,  in  our 
world,  a  man  deliberately  asking  a  young  girl  to 
marry  him ! " 

San  Miniato  smiled,  but  the  Marchesa  could 
not  see  the  expression  of  his  face. 

"  We  do  not  think  it  so  impossible  in  Pied 
mont,"  he  answered  quietly. 

"I  am  surprised  at  that."  The  lady's  tone 
was  rather  cold. 

"  Are  you  ?  Why  ?  We  are  less  old-fash 
ioned,  that  is  all." 

"  And  is  it  really  done  in  —  in  good  fami 
lies?" 

"Often,"  answered  San  Miniato,  seeing  his 
advantage  and  pressing  it.  "  I  could  give  you 
many  instances  without  difficulty,  within  the 
last  few  years." 

"  The  plan  certainly  saves  the  parents  a  great 
deal  of  trouble,"  observed  the  Marchesa,  lazily 
shutting  her  eyes  and  fanning  herself  again. 

"  And  it  places  the  decision  of  the  most  vital 
question  in  life  in  the  hands  of  the  two  beings 
most  concerned." 


90  CHILDREN    OF    THE    KING. 

San  Miniato  spoke  rather  sent entiou  sly,  for  he 
knew  how  to  impress  his  companion  and  he 
meant  to  be  impressive. 

"No  doubt/'  answered  the  Marchesa.  "No 
doubt.  But/'  she  continued,  bringing  up  the 
time-honoured  argument,  "the  two  young  people 
most  concerned  are  not  always  the  people  best 
able  to  judge  of  their  own  welfare." 

"  Of  course  they  are  not,"  assented  San  Mini 
ato,  readily  enough,  and  abandoning  the  point 
which  could  be  of  no  use  to  him.  "  Of  course 
not.  But,  dearest  Marchesa,  since  you  have 
judged  for  us  —  and  there  is  no  one  else  to 
judge  —  do  you  not  think  that  you  might  leave 
the  rest  in  my  hands  ?  The  mere  question  to 
be  asked,  you  know,  in  the  hope  of  a  final 
answer  —  the  mere  technicality  of  love-making, 
with  which  you  can  only  be  familiar  from  the 
woman's  point  of  view,  and  not  from  the  man's,  as 
I  am.  Not  that  I  have  had  much  experience  —  " 

"You?"  laughed  the  Marchesa,  touching  his 
hand  with  her  fan.  "  You  without  much  expe 
rience  !  But  you  are  historical,  dearest  friend ! 
Who  does  not  know  of  your  conquests  ?  " 

"I,  at  least,  do  not/'  answered  San  Miniato 


CHILDKEN    OF    THE    KING.  91 

with  well-affected  modesty.  "  But  that  is  not 
the  question.  Let  us  get  back  to  it.  This  is 
my  plan.  The  moon  is  full  to-morrow  and  the 
weather  is  hot.  We  will  all  go  in  my  boat  to 
Tragara  and  dine  on  the  rocks.  It  will  be 
beautiful.  Then  after  dinner  we  can  walk 
about  in  the  moonlight  —  slowly,  not  far  from 
you,  as  at  the  end  of  this  terrace.  And  while 
you  are  looking  on  I,  in  a  low  voice,  will  express 
my  sincere  feelings  to  Donna  Beatrice,  and  ask 
the  most  important  of  all  questions.  Does  not 
that  please  you  ?  Is  it  not  well  combined  ?  " 

"  But  why  must  we  take  the  trouble  to  go 
all  the  way  to  Capri  ?  What  sense  is  there 
in  that  ? " 

"  Dearest  Marchesa,  you  do  not  understand ! 
Consider  the  surroundings,  the  moonlight,  the 
water  rippling  against  the  rocks,  the  soft  breeze 
—  a  little  music,  too,  such  as  a  pair  of  mandolins 
and  a  guitar,  which  we  could  send  over  —  all 
these  things  are  in  my  favour." 

"  Why  ? "  asked  the  Marchesa,  not  under 
standing  in  the  least  how  he  could  attach  so 
much  value  to  things  which  seemed  to  her  un- 
appreciative  mind  to  be  perfectly  indifferent. 


92  CHILDREN    OF    THE    KING. 

"  Besides/'  she  added,  "  if  you  want  to  give  a 
party,  you  can  illuminate  the  garden  of  the 
hotel  with  Chinese  lanterns.  That  would  be 
much  prettier  than  to  picnic  on  uncomfortable 
rocks  out  in  the  sea  with  nothing  but  cold 
things  to  eat  and  only  the  moon  for  an  illumi 
nation.  I  am  sure  Beatrice  would  like  it  much 
better." 

San  Miniato  laughed. 

"  What  a  prosaic  person  you  are !  "  he  ex 
claimed.  "  Can  you  not  imagine  that  a  young 
girl's  disposition  may  be  softened  by  moonlight, 
mandolins  and  night  breezes?" 

"  No.  I  never  understood  that.  And  after 
all  if  you  want  moonlight  you  can  have  it  here. 
If  it  shines  at  Capri  it  will  shine  at  Sorrento. 
At  least  it  seems  to  me  so." 

"  No,  dearest  Marchesa,"  answered  San  Mini 
ato  triumphantly.  "  There  you  are  mistaken." 

"About  the  moon?" 

"  Yes,  about  the  moon.  When  it  rises  we  do 
not  see  it  here,  on  account  of  the  mountains 
behind  us." 

"  But  I  have  often  seen  the  moon  here,  from 
this  very  place,"  objected  the  Marchesa.  "  I  am 


CHILDREN"    OF    THE    KING.  93 

sure  it  is  not  a  week  ago  that  I  saw  it.  You  do 
not  mean  to  tell  me  that  there  are  two  moons, 
and  that  yours  is  different  from  mine  ! " 

"  Very  nearly.  This  at  least  I  say.  When 
the  moon  is  full  we  can  see  it  rise  from  Tragara, 
and  we  can  not  see  it  from  this  place." 

"How  inexplicable  nature  is!  "  exclaimed  the 
Marchesa  fanning  herself  lazily.  "I  will  not 
try  to  understand  the  moon  any  more.  It  tires 
me.  A  lemonade,  San  Miniato  —  ring  for  a 
lemonade.  I  am  utterly  exhausted." 

"  Shall  I  ask  Donna  Beatrice's  opinion  about 
Tragara?"  inquired  San  Miniato  rising. 

"  Oh  yes  !  Anything  —  only  do  not  argue 
with  me.  I  cannot  bear  it.  I  suppose  you  will 
put  me  into  that  terrible  boat  and  make  me  sit 
in  it  for  hours  and  hours,  until  all  my  bones  are 
broken,  and  then  you  will  give  me  cold  maca 
roni  and  dry  bread  and  warm  wine  and  water, 
and  the  sailors  will  eat  garlic,  and  it  will  be 
insufferable  and  you  will  call  it  divine.  And  of 
course  Beatrice  will  be  so  wretched  that  she  will 
not  listen  to  a  word  you  say,  and  will  certainly 
refuse  you  without  hesitation.  A  lemonade,  San 
Miniato,  for  the  love  of  heaven !  My  throat  is 
parched  with  this  talking." 


94  CHILDREN    OF    THE    KING. 

When  the  Marchesa  had  got  what  she  wanted, 
San  Miniato  sat  down  beside  Beatrice  at  the 
piano,  in  the  sitting  room. 

"  Donna  Beatrice  gentilissima,"  he  began,  "  will 
you  deign  to  tell  me  whether  you  prefer  the 
moon  to  Chinese  lanterns,  or  Chinese  lanterns 
to  the  moon  ?  " 

"  To  wear  ? "  asked  the  young  girl  with  a 
laugh. 

"  If  you  please,  of  course.  Anything  would 
be  becoming  to  you  —  but  I  mean  as  a  question 
of  light.  Would  you  prefer  a  dinner  by  moon 
light  on  the  rocks  of  Tragara  with  a  couple  of 
mandolins  in  the  distance,  or  would  you  like 
better  a  party  in  the  hotel  gardens  with  an 
illumination  of  paper  lanterns  ?  It  is  a  most 
important  question,  I  assure  you,  and  must  be 
decided  very  quickly,  because  the  moon  is  full 
to-morrow." 

"  What  a  ridiculous  question ! "  exclaimed 
Beatrice,  laughing  again. 

"Why  ridiculous?" 

"  Because  you  ought  to  know  the  answer  well 
enough.  Imagine  comparing  the  moon  with 
Chinese  lanterns !  " 


CHILDKEN    OF    THE    KING.  95 

"  Your  mother  prefers  the  latter." 

"  Oh,  mamma  —  of  course  !  She  is  so  prac 
tical.  She  would  prefer  carriage  lamps  on  the 
trees  —  gas  if  possible  !  When  are  we  going  to 
Tragara  ?  Where  is  it  ?  Which  boat  shall  we 
take  ?  Oh,  it  is  too  delightful !  Can  we  not  go 
to-night?" 

"  We  can  do  anything  which  Donna  Beatrice 
likes/'  answered  San  Miniato.  "  But  if  you 
will  listen  to  me,  I  will  explain  why  to-morrow 
would  be  better.  In  the  first  place,  we  have 
dined  once  this  evening,  so  that  we  could  not 
dine  again." 

"We  could  call  it  supper/'  suggested  Beatrice. 

"  Of  course  we  could,  if  we  could  eat  it  at  all. 
But  it  is  also  ten  o'clock,  and  we  could  not  get 
to  Tragara  before  one  or  two  in  the  morning. 
Lastly,  your  mother  would  not  go." 

"Will  she  go  to-morrow?"  asked  Beatrice 
with  sudden  anxiety.  "  Have  you  asked  her  ? " 

"  She  will  go,"  answered  San  Miniato  con 
fidently.  "We  must  make  her  comfortable. 
That  is  the  principal  thing." 

"Yes.  She  shall  have  her  maid  and  we  must 
take  a  chair  for  her  to  sit  in,  and  another  to 


96  CHILDREN    OF    THE    KING. 

carry  her,  and  two  porters,  and  a  lamp,  and  a 
table,  and  a  servant  to  wait  on  her.  And  she 
will  want  champagne,  well  iced,  and  a  carpet 
for  her  feet,  and  a  screen  to  keep  the  wind  from 
her,  if  there  is  any,  and  several  more  things 
which  I  shall  remember.  But  I  know  ail  about 
it,  for  we  once  made  a  little  excursion  from 
Taormina  and  dined  out  of  doors,  and  I  know 
exactly  what  she  wants." 

«  Very  Avell,  she  shall  have  everything,"  said 
San  Miniato  smiling  at  the  catalogue  of  the 
Marchesa's  wants.  "  If  she  will  only  go,  we 
will  do  all  we  can." 

"  When  it  is  time,  let  the  two  porters  come  in 
here  with  the  chair  and  take  her  away,"  answered 
Beatrice.  "  Dear  mamma  !  She  will  be  much 
too  lazy  to  resist.  What  fun  it  will  be  !  " 

And  everything  was  done  as  Beatrice  had 
wished.  San  Miniato  made  a  list  of  things 
absolutely  indispensable  to  the  Marchesa.  The 
number  of  articles  was  about  two  hundred  and 
their  bulk  filled  a  boat  which  was  despatched 
early  in  the  following  afternoon  to  be  rowed 
over  to  Tragara  and  unloaded  before  the  party 
arrived. 


CHILDREN    OF    THE    KING.  97 

Ruggiero  and  his  brother  worked  hard  at  the 
preparation s,  silent,  untiring  and  efficient  as 
usual,  but  delighted  in  their  hearts  at  the  pros 
pect  of  something  less  monotonous  than  the 
daily  sail  or  the  daily  row  within  sight  of  Sor 
rento.  To  men  who  have  knocked  about  the  sea 
for  years,  from  Santa  Cruz  to  Sebastopol,  the 
daily  life  of  a  sailor  on  a  little  pleasure  boat 
lacks  interest,  and  if  circumstances  had  been 
different  Ruggiero  would  probably  have  shipped 
before  now  as  boatswain  on  board  one  of  the 
neat  schooners  which  are  yearly  built  at  the 
Piano  di  Sorrento,  to  be  sold  with  their  cargoes 
of  salt  as  soon  as  they  reach  Buenos  Ayres. 
But  Ruggiero  had  contracted  that  malady  of  the 
heart  which  had  taken  him  to  the  chemist's  for 
the  first  time  in  his  life,  and  which  materially 
hindered  the  formation  of  any  plan  by  which  he 
might  be  obliged  to  leave  his  present  situation. 
Moreover  the  disease  showed  no  signs  of  yield 
ing;  on  the  contrary,  the  action  of  the  vital 
organ  concerned  became  more  and  more  spas 
modic  and  alarming,  while  its  possessor  grew 
daily  leaner  and  more  silent. 

The  last  package  had  been  taken  down,  the 


98  CHILDREN    OF    THE    KING. 

last  of  the  score  of  articles  which  the  Marchesa 
was  sure  to  want  with  her  in  the  sail  boat  before 
She  reached  the  spot  where  the  main  cargo  of 
comforts  would  be  waiting  ;  the  last  sandwich, 
the  last  box  of  sweetmeats,  the  iced  lemonade, 
the  wraps  and  the  parasols  were  all  stowed  away 
in  their  places.  Then  San  Miniato  went  to  fetch 
the  Marchesa,  marshalling  in  his  two  porters 
with  their  chair  between  them. 

"Dearest  Marchesa,"  said  the  Count,  "if  you 
will  give  yourself  the  trouble  to  sit  in  this  chair, 
I  will  promise  that  no  further  exertion  shall  be 
required  of  you." 

The  Marchesa  di  Mola  looked  up  with  a 
glance  of  sleepy  astonishment. 

"  And  why  in  that  chair,  dearest  friend  ?  I 
am  so  comfortable  here.  And  why  have  you 
brought  those  two  men  with  you  ? " 

"  Have  you  forgotten  our  dinner  at  Tragara  ?  " 
asked  San  Miniato. 

"Tragara!"  gasped  the  Marchesa.  "You 
are  not  going  to  take  me  to  Tragara !  Good 
heavens  !  I  am  utterly  exhausted  !  I  shall  die 
before  we  get  to  the  boat." 

"Altro  e  parlar  di  morte  —  altro  e  morire," 


CHILDREN    OF    THE    KING.  99 

laughed  San  Miniato,  quoting  the  famous  song. 
"  It  is  one  thing  to  talk  of  death,  it  is  quite 
another  to  die.  Only  this  little  favour  Marchesa 
gentilissima — to  seat  yourself  in  this  chair.  We 
will  do  the  rest." 

"  Without  a  hat  ?  Just  as  I  am  ?  Impossi 
ble  !  Come  in  an  hour  —  then  I  shall  be  ready. 
My  maid,  San  Miniato  —  send  for  Teresina. 
Dio  mio !  I  can  never  go !  Go  without  us, 
dearest  friend  —  go  and  dine  on  your  hideous 
rocks  and  leave  us  the  little  comfort  we  need  so 
much ! " 

But  protestations  were  vain.  Teresina  ap 
peared  and  fastened  the  hat  of  the  period  upon 
her  mistress's  head.  The  hat  of  the  period 
chanced  to  be  a  one-sided  monstrosity  at  that 
time,  something  between  a  cart  wheel,  an  um 
brella  and  a  flower  garden,  depending  for  its 
stability  upon  the  proper  position  of  several 
solid  skewers,  apparently  stuck  through  the 
head  of  the  wearer.  This  headpiece  having 
been  adjusted  the  Marchesa  asked  for  a  ciga 
rette,  lighted  it  and  looked  about  her. 

"  It  is  really  too  much ! "  she  exclaimed. 
"Button  my  gloves,  Teresina.  I  shall  not  go 


100  CHILDKEN    OF    THE    KING. 

after  all,  not  even  to  please  you,  dearest  friend. 
What  a  place  of  torture  this  world  is  !  How 
right  we  are  to  try  and  get  a  comfortable  stall 
in  the  next !  Go  away,  San  Miniato.  It  is 
quite  useless." 

But  San  Miniato  knew  what  he  was  doing. 
With  gentle  strength  he  made  her  rise  from  her 
seat  and  placed  her  in  the  chair.  The  porters 
lifted  their  burden,  settled  the  straps  upon  their 
shoulders,  the  man  in  front  glanced  back  at  the 
man  behind,  both  nodded  and  marched  away. 

"  This  is  too  awful  !  "  sighed  the  Marchesa,  as 
she  was  carried  out  of  the  door  of  the  sitting 
room.  "  How  can  you  have  the  heart,  dearest 
friend !  An  invalid  like  me !  And  I  was  su 
premely  comfortable  where  I  was." 

But  at  this  point  Beatrice  appeared  and  joined 
the  procession,  radiant,  fresh  as  a  fragrant  wood- 
flower,  full  of  life  as  a  young  bird.  Behind  her 
came  Teresina,  the  maid,  necessary  at  every 
minute  for  the  Marchesa' s  comfort,  her  pink 
young  cheeks  flushed  with  pleasure  and  her  eyes 
sparkling  with  anticipation,  fastening  on  her  hat 
as  she  walked. 

"  I  was  never  so  happy  in  my  life,"  laughed 


CHILDREN    OF    TH& 


Beatrice.  "  And  to  think  that  you  have  really 
captured  mamma  in  spite  of  herself  !  Oh, 
mamma,  you  will  enjoy  it  so  much  !  I  promise 
you  shall.  There  is  iced  champagne,  and  the 
foot  warmer  and  the  marrons  glaces  and  the 
lamp  and  everything  you  like  —  and  quails 
stuffed  with  truffles,  besides.  Now  do  be  happy 
and  let  us  enjoy  ourselves  !  " 

"  But  where  are  all  these  things  ?  "  asked  the 
Marchesa.  "  I  shall  believe  when  I  see." 

"Everything  is  at  Tragara  already,"  answered 
Beatrice  tripping  down  the  stairs  beside  her 
mother's  chair.  "And  we  really  will  enjoy 
ourselves,"  she  added,  turning  her  head  with  a 
bewitching  smile,  and  looking  back  at  San 
Miniato.  "  What  a  general  you  are  !  " 

"  If  you  could  convince  the  Minister  of  War 
of  that  undoubted  fact,  you  would  be  conferring 
the  greatest  possible  favour  upon  me,"  said  the 
Count.  "  He  would  have  no  trouble  in  persuad 
ing  me  to  return  to  the  army  as  commander-in- 
chief,  though  I  left  the  service  as  a  captain." 

So  they  went  down  the  long  winding  way  cut 
through  the  soft  tufo  rock  and  found  the  boat 
waiting  for  them  by  the  little,  landing.  The 


OF    THE    KING. 


Marchesa  actually  took  the  trouble  to  step  on 
board  instead  of  trusting  herself  to  the  strong 
arms  of  Ruggiero.  Beatrice  followed  her.  As 
she  set  her  foot  on  the  gunwale  Ruggiero  held 
up  his  hand  towards  her  to  help  her.  It  was  not 
the  first  time  this  duty  had  fallen  to  him,  but  she 
was  more  radiantly,  fresh  to-day  than  he  had 
ever  seen  her  before,  and  the  spasm  that  seemed 
to  crush  his  heart  for  a  moment  was  more  vio 
lent  than  usual.  His  strong  joints  trembled  at 
her  light  touch  and  his  face  turned  white.  She 
felt  that  his  hand  shook  and  she  glanced  at  him 
when  she  stood  in  the  boat. 

"Are  you  ill,  Ruggiero?"  she  asked,  in  a 
kindly  tone. 

"  No,  Excellency,"  he  answered  in  a  low  voice 
that  was  far  from  steady,  while  the  shadow  of  a 
despairing  smile  flickered  over  his  features. 

He  put  up  his  hand  to  help  Teresina,  the  maid. 
She  pressed  it  hard  as  she  jumped  down,  and 
smiled  with  much  intention  at  the  handsome 
sailor.  But  she  got  no  answer  for  her  look,  and 
he  turned  awray  and  shoved  the  boat  off  the  little 
stone  pier.  Bastianello  was  watching  them  both, 
and  wishing  himself  in  Ruggiero'  s  place.  But 


CHILDREN    OF    THE    KING.  103 

Ruggiero,  as  he  believed,  had  loved  the  pretty 
Teresina  first,  and  Ruggiero  had  the  first  right 
to  win  her  if  he  could. 

So  the  boat  shot  out  upon  the  crisping  water 
into  the  light  afternoon  breeze,  and  up  went 
foresail  and  mainsail  and  jib,  and  away  she  went 
on  the  port  tack,  San  Miniato  steering  and  talk 
ing  to  Beatrice  —  which  things  are  not  to  be  done 
together  with  advantage  —  the  Marchesa  lying 
back  in  a  cane  rocking-chair  and  thinking  of 
nothing,  while  Teresina  held  the  parasol  over 
her  mistress's  head  and  shot  bright  glances  at 
the  sailors  forward.  And  Ruggiero  and  Bas- 
tianello  sat  side  by  side  amidships  looking  out  at 
the  gleaming  sea  to  windward. 

"What  hast  thou?"  asked  Bastianello  in  a 
low  voice. 

"The  pain,"  answered  his  brother. 

"  Why  let  thyself  be  consumed  by  it  ?  Ask 
her  in  marriage.  The  Marchesa  will  give  her 
to  thee." 

"  Better  to  die  !     Thou  dost  not  know  all." 

"  That  may  be,"  said  Bastianello  with  a  sigh. 

And  he  slowly  began  to  fake  down  the  slack 
of  the  main  halyard  on  the  thwart,  twisting  the 


104  CHILDREN    OF    THE    KING. 

coil  slowly  and  thoughtfully  as  it  grew  under 
his  broad  hands,  till  the  rope  lay  in  a  perfectly 
smooth  disk  beside  him.  But  Ruggiero  changed 
his  position  and  gazed  steadily  at  Beatrice's 
changing  face  while  San  Miniato  talked  to  her. 

So  the  boat  sped  on  and  many  of  those  on 
board  misunderstood  each  other,  and  some  did 
not  understand  themselves.  But  what  was  most 
clear  to  all  before  long  was  that  San  Miniato 
could  not  make  love  and  steer  his  trick  at  the 
same  time. 

"  Are  we  going  to  Castellamare  ?  "  asked  Bas- 
tianello  in  a  low  voice  as  the  boat  fell  off  more 
and  more  under  the  Count's  careless  steering. 

Ruggiero  started.  For  the  first  time  in  his 
life  he  had  forgotten  that  he  was  at  sea. 


CHAPTER  V. 

SAN  MINIATO  did  not  possess  that  peculiar 
and  common  form  of  vanity  which  makes  a  man 
sensitive  about  doing  badly  what  he  has  never 
learned  to  do  at  all.  He  laughed  when  Ruggiero 
advised  him  to  luff  a  little,  and  he  did  as  he  was 
told.  But  Ruggiero  came  aft  and  perched  him 
self  on  the  stern  in  order  to  be  at  hand  in  case 
his  master  committed  another  flagrant  breach  of 
seamanship. 

"  You  will  certainly  take  us  to  the  bottom  of 
the  bay  instead  of  to  Tragara,"  observed  the 
Marchesa  languidly.  "  But  then  at  least  my 
discomforts  will  be  over  for  ever.  Of  course 
there  is  no  lemonade  on  board.  Teresina,  I 
want  lemonade." 

In  an  instant  Bastianello  produced  a  decanter 
out  of  a  bucket  of  snow  and  brought  it  aft  with 
a  glass.  The  Marchesa  smiled. 

"  You  do  things  very  well,  dearest  friend,"  she 
said,  and  moistened  her  lips  in  the  cold  liquid. 

105 


106  CHILDREN    OF    THE    KING. 

"  Donna  Beatrice  has  had  more  to  do  with 
providing  for  your  comfort  than  I,"  answered 
the  Count. 

The  Marchesa  smiled  lazily,  sipped  about  a 
teaspoonful  from  the  glass  and  handed  it  to  her 
maid. 

"  Drink,  Teresina,"  she  said.  "  It  will  refresh 
you." 

The  girl  drank  eagerly. 

"  You  see,"  said  the  Marchesa,  "I  can  think 
of  the  comfort  of  others  as  well  as  of  my 
own." 

San  Miniato  smiled  politely  and  Beatrice 
laughed.  Her  laughter  hurt  the  silent  sailor 
perched  behind  her,  as  though  a  glass  had  been 
broken  in  his  face.  How  could  she  be  so  gay 
when  his  heart  was  beating  so  hard  for  her  ? 
He  drew  his  breath  sharply  and  looked  out  to 
sea,  as  many  a  heart-broken  man  has  looked 
across  that  fair  water  since  woman  first  learned 
that  men's  hearts  could  break. 

It  was  a  wonderful  afternoon.  The  sun  was 
already  low,  rolling  down  to  his  western  bath 
behind  Capo  Miseno,  northernmost  of  all  his 
daily  plunges  in  the  year ;  and  as  he  sank,  the 


CHILDREN    OF    THE    KING.  107 

colours  he  had  painted  on  the  hills  at  dawn 
returned  behind  him,  richer  and  deeper  and 
rarer  for  the  heat  he  had  given  them  all  day. 
There,  like  a  mass  of  fruit  and  flowers  in  a  red 
gold  bowl,  Sorrento  lay  in  the  basin  of  the  sur 
rounding  mountains,  all  gilded  above  and  full 
of  rich  shadows  below.  Over  all,  the  great 
Santangelo  raised  his  misty  head  against  the 
pale  green  eastern  sky,  gazing  down  at  the  life 
below,  at  the  living  land  and  the  living  sea,  and 
remembering,  perhaps,  the  silent  days  before 
life  was,  or  looking  forward  to  the  night  to 
come  in  which  there  will  be  no  life  left  any 
more.  For  who  shall  tell  me  that  the  earth 
herself  may  not  be  a  living,  thinking,  feeling 
being,  on  whose  not  unkindly  bosom  we  wear 
out  our  little  lives,  but  whose  high  loves  are 
with  the  stars,  beyond  our  sight,  and  her  voice 
too  deep  and  musical  for  ears  used  to  our  shrill 
human  speech  ?  Who  shall  say  surely  that  she 
is  not  conscious  of  our  presence,  of  some  of  our 
doings  when  we  tear  her  breast  and  lay  burdens 
upon  her  neck  and  plough  up  her  fair  skin  with 
our  hideous  works,  or  when  we  touch  her  kindly 
and  love  her,  and  plant  sweet  flowers  in  soft 


108  CHILDREN    OF    THE    KING. 

places  ?  Who  shall  know  and  teach  us  that  the 
summer  breeze  is  not  her  breath,  the  storm  the 
sobbing  of  her  passion,  the  rain  her  woman's  tears 
—  that  she  is  not  alive,  loving  and  suffering,  as 
we  all  have  been,  are,  or  would  be,  but  greater 
than  we  as  the  star  she  loves  somewhere  is  greater 
and  stronger  than  herself  ?  And  we  live  upon 
her,  and  feed  on  her  and  all  die  and  are  taken 
back  into  her  whence  we  came,  wondering  much 
of  the  truth  that  is  hidden,  learning  perhaps  at 
last  the  great  secret  she  keeps  so  well.  Her  life, 
too,  will  end  some  day,  her  last  blossom  will  have 
bloomed  alone,  her  last  tears  will  have  fallen 
upon  her  own  bosom,  her  last  sob  will  have  rent 
the  air.  and  the  beautiful  earth  will  be  dead  for 
ever,  borne  on  in  the  sweep  of  the  race  that  will 
never  end,  borne  along  yet  a  few  ages,  till  her 
sweet  body  turns  to  star-dust  in  the  great  empti 
ness  of  a  night  without  morning. 

But  Ruggiero,  plain  strong  man  of  the  people, 
hard-handed  sailor,  was  not  thinking  of  any  of 
these  things  as  he  sat  in  his  narrow  place  on  the 
stern  behind  his  master,  mechanically  guiding 
the  tiller  in  the  latter' s  unconscious  hand,  while 
he  gazed  silently  at  Beatrice's  face>  now  turned 


CHILDREN    OF    THE    KING.  109 

towards  him  in  conversation,  now  half  averted  as 
she  looked  down  or  out  to  sea.  Kuggiero  listened, 
too,  to  the  talk,  though  he  did  not  understand  all 
the  fine  words  Beatrice  and  San  Miniato  used. 
If  he  had  never  been  away  from  the  coast,  the 
probability  is  that  he  would  have  understood 
nothing  at  all ;  but  in  his  long  voyages  he  had 
been  thrown  with  men  of  other  parts  of  Italy 
and  had  picked  up  a  smattering  of  what  Nea 
politans  call  Italian,  to  distinguish  it  from  their 
own  speech.  Even  as  it  was,  the  most  part  of 
what  they  said  escaped  him,  because  they  seemed 
to  think  so  very  differently  from  him  about 
simple  matters,  and  to  be  so  heartily  amused  at 
what  seemed  so  dull  to  him.  And  he  began  to 
feel  that  the  hurt  he  had  was  deep  and  not  to 
be  healed,  while  he  reflected  that  he  was  un 
doubtedly  mad,  since  he  loved  this  lady  so  much 
while  understanding  her  so  little.  The  mere 
feeling  that  she  could  talk  and  take  pleasure  in 
talking  beyond  his  comprehension  wounded  him, 
as  a  sensitive  half-grown  boy  sometimes  suffers 
real  pain  when  his  boyishness  shows  itself  among 
men. 

Why,  for  instance,  did  the  young  girl's  cheek 


110  CHILDREN    OF    THE    KING. 

flush  and  her  eyes  sparkle,  when  San  Miniato 
talked  of  Paris  ?  Paris  was  in  France.  Rug- 
giero  knew  that.  But  he  had  often  heard  that 
it  was  not  so  big  a  place  as  London,  where  he 
had  been.  Therefore  Beatrice  must  have  some 
other  reason  for  liking  it.  Most  probably  she 
loved  a  Frenchman,  and  Ruggiero  hated  French 
men  with  all  his  heart.  Then  they  talked  about 
the  theatre  and  Beatrice  was  evidently  interested. 
Ruggiero  had  once  seen  a  puppet  show  and  had 
not  found  it  at  all  funny.  The  theatre  was  only 
a  big  puppet  show,  and  he  could  pay  for  a  seat 
there  if  he  pleased;  but  he  did  not  please,  because 
he  was  sure  that  it  would  not  amuse  him  to  go. 
Why  should  Beatrice  like  the  theatre  ?  And 
she  liked  the  races  at  Naples,  too,  and  those  at 
Paris  much  better.  Why  ?  Everybody  knew 
that  one  horse  could  run  faster  than  another, 
without  trying  it,  but  it  could  not  matter  a  straw 
which  of  two,  or  twenty,  got  to  the  goal  first. 
Horses  were  not  boats.  Now  there  was  sense  in 
a  boat  race,  or  a  yacht  race,  or  a  steamer  race. 
But  a  horse !  He  might  be  first  to-day,  and  to 
morrow  if  he  had  riot  enough  to  eat  he  might  be 
last.  Was  a  horse  a  Christian  ?  You  could  not 


CHILDREN    OF    THE    KING.  Ill 

count  upon  him.  Arid  then  they  began  to  talk 
of  love  and  Ruggiero's  heart  stood  still,  for  that, 
at  least,  he  could  understand. 

"Love!"  laughed  Beatrice,  repeating  the 
word.  "  It  always  makes  one  laugh.  Were  you 
ever  in  love,  mamma  ?  " 

The  Marchesa  turned  her  head  slowly,  and 
lifted  her  sleepy  eyes  to  look  at  her  daughter, 
before  she  answered. 

"  No,"  she  said  lazily.  "  I  was  never  in  love. 
But  you  are  far  too  young  to  talk  of  such  things." 

"  San  Miniato  says  that  love  is  for  the  young 
and  friendship  for  the  old." 

"  Love,"  said  San  Miniato,  "is  a  necessary  evil, 
but  it  is  also  the  greatest  source  of  happiness." 

"What  a  fine  phrase!"  exclaimed  Beatrice. 
"You  must  be  a  professor  in  disguise." 

"  A  professor  of  love?"  asked  the  Count  with 
a  very  well  executed  look  of  tenderness  which 
did  not  escape  Ruggiero. 

"Hush,  for  the  love  of  heaven!"  interposed 
the  Marchesa.  "  This  is  too  dreadful !  " 

"We  were  not  talking  of  the  love  of  heaven," 
answered  Beatrice  mischievously. 

"  I  was  thinking  at  least  of  a  love  that  could 


112  CHILDREN    OF    THE    KING. 

make  any  place  a  heaven,"  said  San  Miniato, 
again  helping  his  lack  of  originality  with  his 
eyes. 

Ruggiero  reflected  that  it  would  be  but  the 
affair  of  a  second  to  unship  the  heavy  brass 
tiller  and  bring  it  down  once  on  the  top  of  his 
master's  skull.  Once  would  be  enough. 

"  Whose  love  ?  "  asked  Beatrice  innocently. 

San  Miniato  looked  at  her  again,  then  turned 
away  his  eyes  and  sighed  audibly. 

"Well?"  asked  Beatrice.  "Will  you  answer. 
I  do  not  understand  that  language.  Whose 
love  would  make  any  place  —  Timbuctoo,  for 
instance  —  a  heaven  for  you  ? " 

"Discretion  is  the  only  virtue  a  man  ought 
to  exhibit  whenever  he  has  a  chance,"  said  San 
Miniato. 

"Perhaps.  But  even  that  should  be  shown 
without  ostentation."  Beatrice  laughed.  "And 
you  are  decidedly  ostentatious  at  the  present 
moment.  It  would  interest  mamma  and  me 
very  much  to  know  the  object  of  your  affec 
tions." 

"Beatrice!"  exclaimed  the  Marchesa  with 
affected  horror. 


CHILDREN    OF    THE    KING.  113 

"  Yes,  mamma/'  answered  the  young  girl. 
"  Here  I  am.  Do  you  want  some  more  lemon 
ade?" 

"  She  is  quite  insufferable,"  said  the  Marchesa 
to  San  Miniato,  with  a  languid  smile.  "  But 
really,  San  Miniato  carissimo,  this  conversation 
—  a  young  girl  —  " 

Ruggiero  wondered  what  she  found  so  obnox 
ious  in  the  words  that  had  been  spoken.  He 
also  wondered  how  long  it  would  take  San 
Miniato  to  drown  if  he  were  dropped  overboard 
in  the  wake  of  the  boat. 

"If  that  is  your  opinion  of  your  daughter," 
said  the  latter,  "  we  shall  hardly  agree.  Now  I 
maintain  that  Donna  Beatrice  is  the  contrary  of 
insufferable  —  the  most  extreme  of  contraries. 
In  the  first  place  —  " 

"  She  is  very  pretty,"  said  Beatrice  demurely. 

"  I  was  not  going  to  say  that,"  laughed  San 
Miniato. 

"  Ah  ?     Then  say  something  else." 

"  I  will.  Donna  Beatrice  has  two  gifts,  at 
least,  which  make  it  impossible  that  she  should 
ever  be  insufferable,  even  when  her  beauty  is 
gone." 


114  CHILDREN    OF    THE    KING. 

"  Dio  mio  !  "  ejaculated  the  young  girl.  "  The 
compliments  are  beginning  in  good  earnest !  " 

"  It  was  time/'  said  San  Miniato,  "  since  your 
mother — " 

"  Dear  Count/'  interrupted  Beatrice,  "  do  not 
talk  any  more  about  mamma.  I  am  anxious 
to  get  at  the  compliments.  Do  pray  let  your 
indiscretion  be  as  ostentatious  as  possible.  I 
cannot  wait  another  second." 

"  No  need  of  waiting,"  answered  San  Miniato, 
again  addressing  himself  to  the  Marchesa. 
"  Donna  Beatrice  has  two  great  gifts.  She  is 
kind,  and  she  has  charm." 

There  being  no  exact  equivalent  for  the  word 
" charm"  in  the  Italian  language,  San  Miniato 
used  the  French.  Ruggiero  began  to  puzzle  his 
brains,  asking  himself  what  this  foreign  virtue 
could  be  which  his  master  estimated  so  highly. 
He  also  thought  it  very  strange  that  Beatrice 
should  have  said  of  herself  that  she  was  pretty, 
and  still  stranger  that  San  Miniato  should  not 
have  said  it. 

"  Is  that  all  ?  "  asked  Beatrice.  "  I  need  not 
have  been  in  such  a  hurry  to  extract  your  com 
pliments  from  you." 


CHILDREN    OF    THE    KING.  115 

"If  you  had  understood  what  I  said,"  an 
swered  San  Miniato  unmoved,  "  you  would  see 
that  no  man  could  say  more  of  a  woman." 

"  Kind  and  charming  !  It  is  not  much," 
laughed  the  young  girl.  "  Unless  you  mean 
much  more  than  you  say  —  and  I  asked  you  to 
be  indiscreet !  " 

"  Kind  hearts  are  rare  enough  in  this  world, 
Donna  Beatrice,  and  as  for  charm — " 

"What  is  charm?" 

"  It  is  what  the  violet  has,  and  the  camelia 
has  not  — ' ' 

"  Heavens !  Are  you  going  to  sigh  to  me  in 
the  language  of  flowers  ?  " 

"  Beatrice  !  Beatrice  !  "  cried  the  Marchesa, 
with  the  same  affectation  of  horror  as  before. 

"  Dear  mamma,  are  you  uncomfortable  ?  Oh 
no !  I  see  now.  You  are  horrified.  Have  I  said 
anything  dreadful  ?  "  she  asked,  turning  to  San 
Miniato. 

"  Anything  dreadful  ?  What  an  idea  !  Really, 
Marchesa  carissima,  I  was  just  beginning  to 
explain  to  Donna  Beatrice  what  charm  is,  when 
you  cut  me  short.  I  implore  you  to  let  me 
go  on  with  my  explanation." 


116  CHILDREN    OF    THE    KING. 

"  On  condition  that  Beatrice  makes  no  com 
ments.  Give  me  a  cigarette,  Teresina." 

"  The  congregation  will  not  interrupt  the 
preacher  before  the  benediction/'  said  Beatrice 
folding  her  small  hands  on  her  knee,  and  looking 
down  with  a  devout  expression. 

"  Charm,"  began  San  Miniato,  "is  the  some 
thing  which  some  women  possess,  and  which 
holds  the  men  who  love  them  —  " 

"Only  those  who  love  them?"  interrupted 
Beatrice,  looking  up  quickly. 

"  I  thought,"  said  the  Marchesa,  "  that  you 
were  not  to  give  us  any  comments."  She 
dropped  the  words  one  or  two  at  a  time  between 
the  puffs  of  her  cigarette. 

"  A  question  is  not  a  comment,  mamma.  I 
ask  for  instruction." 

"  Go  on,  dearest  friend,"  said  her  mother  to 
the  Count.  "  She  is  incorrigible." 

"On  the  contrary,  Donna  Beatrice  fills  my 
empty  head  with  ideas.  The  question  was  to  the 
point.  All  men  feel  the  charm  of  such  women  as 
all  men  smell  the  orange  blossoms  here  in  May —  " 

"  The  language  of  flowers  again  !  "  laughed 
Beatrice. 


CHILDREN    OF    THE    KING.  117 

"  You  are  so  like  a  flower,"  answered  San 
Miniato  softly. 

"Am  I?"  She  laughed  again,  then  grew 
grave  and  looked  away. 

Ruggiero' s  hand  shook  on  the  heavy  tiller,  and 
San  Miniato,  who  supposed  he  was  steering  all 
the  time,  turned  suddenly. 

"What  is  the  matter?"  he  asked. 

"The  rudder  is  draking,  Excellency,"  answered 
Ruggiero. 

"  And  what  does  that  mean  ? "  asked  Beatrice. 

"It  means  that  the  rudder  trembles  as  the 
boat  rises  and  falls  with  each  sea,  when  there  is 
a  good  breeze,"  answered  Ruggiero. 

"  Is  there  any  danger  ? "  asked  Beatrice  indif 
ferently. 

"What  danger  could  there  be,  Excellency?" 
asked  the  sailor. 

"  Because  you  are  so  pale,  Ruggiero.  What 
is  the  matter  with  you,  to-day  ?  " 

"  Nothing,  Excellency." 

"  Ruggiero  is  in  love,"  laughed  San  Miniato. 
"  Is  it  not  true,  Ruggiero  ?  " 

But  the  sailor  did  not  answer,  though  the  hot 
blood  came  quickly  to  his  face  and  stayed  there 


118  CHILDREN    OF    THE    KING. 

a  moment  and  then  sank  away  again.  He 
looked  steadily  at  the  dancing  waves  to  wind 
ward,  and  set  his  lips  tightly  together. 

"  I  would  like  to  ask  that  sailor  what  he 
thinks  of  love  and  charm,  and  all  the  rest 
of  it/'  said  Beatrice.  "His  ideas  would  be 
interesting." 

Ruggiero's  blue  eyes  turned  slowly  upon  her, 
with  an  odd  expression.  Then  he  looked  away 
again. 

"  I  will  ask  him/'  said  San  Miniato  in  a  low 
voice.  "  Ruggiero  !  " 

"Excellency!" 

"We  want  to  know  what  you  think  about 
love.  What  is  the  best  quality  a  woman  can 
have  ?  " 

"  To  be  honest/'  answered  Ruggiero  promptly. 

"  And  after  that,  what  next  ?  " 

"  To  be  beautiful." 

"And  then  rich,  I  suppose  ?" 

"It  would  be  enough  if  she  did  not  waste 
money." 

"  Honest,  beautiful,  and  economical !  "  ex 
claimed  Beatrice.  "  He  does  not  say  anything 
about  charm,  you  see.  I  think  his  description 


CHILDREN    OF    THE    KING.  119 

is  extremely  good  and  to  the  point.  Bravo, 
Ruggiero ! " 

His  eyes  met  hers  and  gleamed  rather  fiercely 
for  an  instant. 

"And  how  about  charm,  Ruggiero?"  asked 
Beatrice  mischievously. 

"I  do  not  speak  French,  Excellency,"  he 
answered. 

"  You  should  learn,  because  charm  is  a  word 
one  cannot  say  in  Italian.  I  do  not  know  how 
to  say  it  in  our  language." 

"Let  me  talk  about  flowers  to  him,"  said 
San  Miniato.  "  I  will  make  him  understand. 
Which  do  you  like  better,  Ruggiero,  camelias  or 
violets?" 

"  The  camelia  is  a  more  lordly  flower,  Excel 
lency,  but  for  me  I  like  the  violets." 

"Why?" 

"  Who  knows  ?  They  make  one  think  of  so 
many  things,  Excellency.  One  would  tire  of 
camelias,  but  one  would  never  be  tired  of  vio 
lets.  They  have  something  —  who  knows  ?  " 

"  That  is  it,  Ruggiero,"  said  San  Miniato, 
delighted  with  the  result  of  his  experiment. 
"And  charm  is  the  same  thing  in  a  woman. 


120  CHILDREN    OF    THE    KING. 

One  is  never  tired  of  it,  and  yet  it  is  not  hon 
esty,  nor  beauty,  nor  economy." 

"  I  understand,  Excellency  —  e  Ja  f emmina  — 
it  is  the  womanly." 

"  Bravo,  Ruggiero  !  "  exclaimed  Beatrice 
again.  "  You  are  a  man  of  heart.  And  if 
you  found  a  woman  who  was  honest  and  beau 
tiful  and  economical  and  '  femmina,'  as  you 
say,  would  you  love  her?" 

"  Yes,  Excellency,  very  much,"  answered 
Ruggiero.  But  his  voice  almost  failed  him. 

"How  much?     Tell  us." 

Ruggiero  was  silent  a  moment.  Then  his 
eyes  flashed  suddenly  as  he  looked  down  at  her 
and  his  voice  came  ringing  and  strong. 

"  So  much  that  I  would  pray  that  Christ  and 
the  sea  would  take  her,  rather  than  that  another 
man  should  get  her  !  Per  Dio  !  " 

There  was  such  a  vibration  of  strong  passion 
in  the  words  that  Beatrice  started  a  little  and 
San  Miniato  looked  up  in  surprise.  Even  the 
Marchesa  vouchsafed  the  sailor  a  glance  of  indo 
lent  curiosity.  Beatrice  bent  over  to  the  Count 
and  spoke  in  a  low  tone  and  in  French. 

"  We  must  not  tease  him  any  more.  He  is  in 
love  and  very  much  in  earnest." 


CHILDREN    OF    THE    KING.  121 

"  So  am  I"  answered  San  Miniato  with  a  half 
successful  attempt  to  seem  emotional,  which 
might  have  done  well  enough  if  it  had  not 
come  after  Euggiero's  heartfelt  speech. 

"  You  !  "  laughed  Beatrice.  "  You  are  never 
really  in  earnest.  You  only  think  you  are,  and 
that  pleases  you  as  well." 

San  Miniato  bit  his  lip,  for  he  was  not 
pleased.  Her  answer  augured  ill  for  the  success 
of  the  plan  he  meant  to  put  into  execution  that 
very  evening.  He  felt  strongly  incensed  against 
Ruggiero,  too,  without  in  the  least  understand 
ing  the  reason. 

"  You  will  find  out  some  day,  Donna  Beatrice, 
that  those  who  are  most  in  earnest  are  not  those 
who  make"  the  most  passionate  speeches." 

"Ah  !  Is  that  true?  How  strange  !  I  should 
have  supposed  that  if  a  man  said  nothing  it  was 
because  he  had  nothing  to  say.  But  you  have 
such  novel  theories  !  " 

"  Is  this  discussion  never  to  end  ?  "  asked  the 
Marchesa,  wearily  lifting  her  hand  as  though 
in  protest,  and  letting  it  fall  again  beside  the 
other. 

"  It  has  only  just  begun,  mamma,"  answered 


122  CHILDREN    OF    THE   KING. 

Beatrice  cheerfully.  "When  San  Miniato  jumps 
into  the  sea  and  drowns  himself  in  despair,  you 
will  know  that  the  discussion  is  over." 

"  Beatrice  !     My  child  !     What  language  !  " 

"  Italian,  mamma  carissima.  Italian  with  a 
little  Sicilian,  such  as  we  speak." 

"I  am  at  your  service,  Donna  Beatrice,"  said 
the  Count.  "  Would  you  like  me  to  drown 
myself  immediately,  or  are  you  inclined  for  a 
little  more  conversation?" 

Ruggiero  had  now  taken  the  helm  altogether. 
As  San  Miniato  spoke  he  nodded  to  his  brother 
who  was  forward,  intimating  that  he  meant  to 
go  about.  He  was  certainly  not  in  his  normal 
frame  of  mind,  for  he  had  an  evil  thought  at 
that  moment.  Fortunately  for  every  one  con 
cerned  the  breeze  was  very  light  and  was  indeed 
dying  away  as  the  sun  sank  lower.  They  were 
already  nearing  the  southernmost  point  of  Capri, 
commonly  called  by  sailors  the  Monaco,  for 
what  reason  no  one  knows.  To  reach  Tragara 
where  the  Faraglioni,  or  needles,  rise  out  of  the 
deep  sea  close  to  the  rocky  shore  under  the 
cliffs,  it  is  necessary  to  go  round  the  point. 
There  was  soon  hardly  any  breeze  at  all,  so  that 


CHILDREN    OF   THE    KING.  123 

Bastiaiiello  and  the  other  men  shipped  half-a- 
dozen  oars  and  began  to  row.  The  operation  of 
going  about  involved  a  change  of  places  in  so 
small  a  boat  and  the  slight  confusion  had  inter 
rupted  the  conversation.  A  long  silence  fol 
lowed,  broken  at  last  by  the  Marchesa's  voice. 

"  A  cigarette,  Teresina,  and  some  more  lemon 
ade.  Are  you  still  there,  San  Miniato  carissimo  ? 
As  I  heard  no  more  conversation  I  supposed  you 
had  drowned  yourself  as  you  proposed  to  do." 

"Donna  Beatrice  is  so  kind  as  to  put  off  the 
execution  until  after  dinner." 

"  And  shall  we  ever  reach  this  dreadful  place, 
and  ever  really  dine  ?"  asked  the  Marchesa. 

"  Before  sunset,"  answered  San  Miniato. 
"  And  we  shall  dine  at  our  usual  hour." 

"  At  least  it  will  not  be  so  hot  as  in  the  hotel, 
and  after  all  it  has  not  been  very  fatiguing." 

"  No,"  said  the  Count,  "  I  fail  to  see  how  your 
exertions  can  have  tired  you  much." 

Ruggiero  looked  down  at  his  master  and  at 
the  fine  lady  as  she  lay  listlessly  extended  in  her 
cane  chair,  and  he  felt  that  in  his  heart  he  hated 
them  both  as  much  as  he  loved  Beatrice,  which 
was  saying  much.  But  he  wondered  how  it  was 


124  CHILDREN    OF    THE    KING. 

that  less  than  half  an  hour  earlier  he  had  been 
ready  to  upset  the  boat  and  drown  every  one  in 
it  indiscriminately.  Nevertheless  he  believed 
that  if  there  had  been  a  stiff  breeze  just  then, 
enough  for  his  purpose,  he  would  have  stopped 
the  boat's  way,  and  then  put  the  helm  hard  up 
again,  without  slacking  out  a  single  sheet,  and 
he  knew  the  little  craft  well  enough  to  be  sure  of 
what  would  have  happened.  Murderous  inten 
tions  enough,  as  he  thought  of  it  all  now,  in  the 
calm  water  under  the  great  cliff  from  which 
tradition  says  that  Tiberius  shot  delinquents  into 
space  from  a  catapult. 

The  men  pulled  hard  by  the  lonely  rocks,  for 
the  sun  had  almost  set  and  they  knew  how  sharp 
the  stones  are  at  Tragara,  when  one  must  tread 
them  barefoot  and  burdened  with  hampers  and 
kettles  and  all  the  paraphernalia  of  a  picnic. 

Then  the  light  grew  rich  and  deep,  and  the 
sea  swallows  shot  from  the  misty  heights,  like 
arrows,  into  the  calm  purple  air  below,  and 
skimmed  and  wheeled,  and  rose  again,  startled 
by  the  splash  of  the  oars  and  the  dull  knock  of 
them  as  they  swung  in  the  tholes.  And  the 
water  was  like  a  mirror  in  which  all  manner  of 


CHILDREN    OF    THE    KING.  125 

rare  and  lovely  things  are  reflected,  with  blots  of 
liquid  gold  and  sheen  of  soft-hued  damask,  and 
great  handfuls  of  pearls  and  opals  strewn  be 
tween,  and  roses  and  petals  of  many  kinds  of 
flowers  without  names.  And  the  air  was  full 
of  the  faint,  salt  odours  that  haunt  the  lonely 
places  of  the  sea,  sweet  and  bitter  at  once  as  the 
last  days  of  a  young  life  fading  fast.  Then  the 
great  needles  rose  gigantic  from  the  depths  to 
heaven,  and  beyond,  through  the  mysterious, 
shadowy  arch  that  pierces  one  of  them,  was 
opened  the  glorious  vision  of  a  distant  cloud- 
lit  water,  and  a  single  dark  sail  far  away 
stood  still,  as  it  were,  on  the  very  edge  of  the 
world. 

Beatrice  leaned  back  and  gazed  at  the  scene, 
and  her  delicate  nostrils  expanded  as  she 
breathed.  There  was  less  colour  in  her  face  than 
there  had  been,  and  the  long  lashes  half  veiled 
her  eyes.  San  Miniato  watched  her  narrowly. 

"  How  beautiful !  How  beautiful !  "  she  ex 
claimed  twice,  after  a  long  silence. 

"  It  will  be  more  beautiful  still  when  the  moon 
rises,"  said  San  Miniato.  "  I  am  glad  you  are 
pleased." 


126  CHILDREN    OF    THE    KING. 

She  liked  the  simple  words  better,  perhaps, 
than  some  of  his  rather  artificial  speeches. 

"Thank  you,"  she  said.  "Thank  you  for 
bringing  us  here." 

He  had  certainly  taken  a  great  deal  of  trouble, 
she  thought,  and  it  was  the  least  she  could  do,  to 
thank  him  as  she  did.  But  she  was  really  grate 
ful  and  for  a  moment  she  felt  a  sort  of  sympathy 
for  him  which  she  had  not  felt  before.  He,  at 
least,  understood  that  one  could  like  something 
better  in  the  world  than  the  eternal  terrace  of  a 
hotel  with  its  stiff  orange  trees,  its  ugly  lanterns 
and  its  everlasting  gossip  and  chatter.  He,  at 
least,  was  a  little  unlike  all  those  other  people, 
beginning  with  her  own  mother,  who  think  of 
self  first,  comfort  second,  and  of  others  once  a 
month  or  so,  in  the  most  favourable  cases.  Yet 
she  wondered  a  little  about  his  past  life,  and 
whether  he  had  ever  spoken  to  any  woman  with 
that  ringing  passion  she  had  heard  in  Ruggiero's 
voice,  with  that  flashing  look  she  had  seen  in 
the  sailor's  bright  blue  eyes.  It  would  be  good 
to  be  spoken  to  like  that.  It  would  be  good  to 
see  the  colour  in  a  man's  face  change,  and  come 
and  go,  red  and  white  like  life  and  death.  It 


CHILDREN    OF    THE    KING.  127 

would  be  supremely  good  to  be  loved  once,  madly, 
passionately,  with  body,  heart  and  soul,  to  the 
very  breaking  of  all  three  —  to  be  held  in  strong 
arms,  to  be  kissed  half  to  death. 

She  stopped,  conscious  that  her  mother  would 
certainly  not  approve  such  thoughts,  and  well 
aware  in  her  girlish  heart  that  she  did  not 
approve  them  in  herself.  And  then  she  smiled 
faintly.  The  man  of  her  waking  vision  was  not 
like  San  Miniato.  He  was  more  like  Ruggiero, 
the  poor  sailor,  who  sat  perched  on  the  stern 
close  behind  her.  She  smiled  uneasily  at  the 
idea,  and  then  she  thought  seriously  of  it  for  a 
moment.  If  such  a  man  as  Ruggiero  appeared, 
not  as  a  sailor,  but  as  a  man  of  her  own  world, 
would  he  not  be  a  very  lovable  person,  would  he 
not  turn  the  heads  of  the  languid  ladies  on  the 
terrace  of  the  hotel  at  Sorrento  ?  The  thought 
annoyed  her.  Ruggiero,  poor  fellow,  would  have 
given  his  good  right  arm  to  know  that  such  a 
possibility  had  even  crossed  her  reflections.  But 
it  was  not  probable  that  he  ever  would  know  it, 
and  he  sat  in  his  place,  silent  and  unmoved, 
steering  the  boat  to  her  destination,  and  thinking 
of  her. 


128  CHILDREN    OF    THE    KING. 

It  was  not  dusk  when  the  boat  was  alongside 
of  the  low  jagged  rocks  which  lie  between  the 
landward  needle  and  the  cliffs,  making  a  sort  of 
rough  platform  in  which  there  are  here  and  there 
smooth  flat  places  worn  by  the  waves  and  often 
full  of  dry  salt  for  a  day  or  two  after  a  storm. 
There,  to  the  Marchesa's  inexpressible  relief,  the 
numberless  objects  inscribed  in  the  catalogue 
of  her  comforts  were  already  arranged,  and  she 
suffered  herself  to  be  lifted  from  the  boat  and 
carried  ashore  by  Ruggiero  and  his  brother,  with 
out  once  murmuring  or  complaining  of  fatigue  — 
a  truly  wonderful  triumph  for  San  Miniato's 
generalship. 

There  was  the  table,  the  screen,  and  the  lamp, 
the  chairs  and  the  carpet  —  all  the  necessary 
furniture  for  the  Marchesa's  dining-room.  And 
there  at  her  place  stood  an  immaculate  individual 
in  an  evening  coat  and  a  white  tie,  ready  and 
anxious  to  do  her  bidding.  She  surveyed  the 
preparations  with  more  satisfaction  than  she 
generally  showed  at  anything.  Then  all  at 
once  her  face  fell. 

"  Good  heavens,  San  Miniato  carissimo,"  she 
cried,  "  you  have  forgotten  the  red  pepper  !  It 


CHILDREN    OF    THE    KING.  129 

is  all  over  !  I  shall  eat  nothing  !  I  shall  die  in 
this  place !  " 

"  Pardon  me,  dearest  Marchesa,  I  know  your 
tastes.  There  is  red  pepper  and  also  Tabasco 
on  the  table.  Observe  —  here  and  here." 

The  Marchesa's  brow  cleared. 

"  Forgive  me,  dear  friend,"  she  said.  "I  am 
so  dependent  on  these  little  things !  You  are 
an  angel,  a  general  and  a  man  of  heart." 

"  The  man  of  your  heart,  I  hope  you  mean  to 
say,"  answered  San  Miniato,  looking  at  Bea 
trice. 

"  Of  course  —  anything  you  like  —  you  are 
delightful.  But  I  am  dropping  with  fatigue. 
Let  me  sit  down." 

"  You  have  forgotten  nothing  —  not  even  the 
moon  you  promised  me,"  said  Beatrice,  gazing 
with  clasped  hands  at  the  great  yellow  shield 
as  it  slowly  rose  above  the  far  south-eastern 
hills. 

"I  will  never  forget  anything  you  ask  me, 
Donna  Beatrice,"  replied  San  Miniato  in  a  low 
voice.  Something  told  him  that  in  the  face  of 
all  nature's  beauty,  he  must  speak  very  simply, 
and  he  was  right. 


130  CHILDREN    OF    THE    KING. 

There  is  but  one  moment  in  the  revolution  of 
day  and  night  which  is  more  beautiful  than  the 
rising  of  the  full  moon  at  sunset,  and  that  is  the 
dawn  on  the  water  when  the  full  moon  is  going 
down.  To  see  the  gathering  dusk  drink  down 
the  purple  wine  that  dyes  the  air,  the  sea  and 
the  light  clouds,  until  it  is  almost  dark,  and 
then  to  feel  the  darkness  growing  light  again 
with  the  warm,  yellow  moon  —  to  watch  the 
jewels  gathering  on  the  velvet  sea,  and  the 
sharp  black  cliffs  turning  to  chiselled  silver 
above  you  —  to  know  that  the  whole  night  is 
to  be  but  a  softer  day  —  to  see  how  the  love  of 
the  sun  for  the  earth  is  one,  and  the  love  of  the 
moon  another  —  that  is  a  moment  for  which  one 
may  give  much  and  not  be  disappointed. 

Beatrice  Granmichele  saw  and  felt  what  she 
had  never  seen  or  felt  before,  and  the  magic  of 
Tragara  held  sway  over  her,  as  it  does  over  the 
few  who  see  it  as  she  saw  it.  She  turned  slowly 
and  glanced  at  San  Miniato's  face.  The  moon 
light  improved  it,  she  thought.  There  seemed 
to  be  more  vigour  in  the  well-drawn  lines,  more 
strength  in  the  forehead  than  she  had  noticed 
until  now.  She  felt  that  she  was  in  sympathy 


CHILDREN    OF    THE    KING.  131 

with  him,  and  that  the  sympathy  might  be  a 
lasting  one.  Then  she  turned  quite  round  and 
faced  the  commonplace  lamp  with  its  pink  shade, 
which  stood  on  the  dinner-table,  and  she  expe 
rienced  a  disagreeable  sensation.  The  Marchesa 
was  slowly  fanning  herself,  already  seated  at 
her  place. 

"If  you  are  human  beings,  and  not  astrono 
mers,"  she  said,  "we  might  perhaps  dine." 

"  I  am  very  human,  for  my  part,"  said  San 
Miniato,  holding  Beatrice's  chair  for  her  to  sit 
down. 

"  There  was  really  no  use  for  the  lamp, 
mamma,"  she  said,  turning  again  to  look  at  the 
moon.  "  You  see  what  an  illumination  we  have ! 
San  Miniato  has  provided  us  with  something 
better  than  a  lamp." 

"  San  Miniato,  my  dear  child,  is  a  man  of  the 
highest  genius.  I  always  said  so.  But  if  you 
begin  to  talk  of  eating  without  a  lamp,  you 
may  as  well  talk  of  abolishing  civilisation." 

"  I  wish  we  could  !  "  exclaimed  Beatrice. 

"And  so  do  I,  with  all  my  heart,"  said  San 
Miniato. 

"Including  baccarat  and  quinze  ?  "   enquired 


132  CHILDREN    OF    THE    KING. 

the  Marchesa,  lazily  picking  out  the  most  deli 
cate  morsels  from  the  cold  fish  on  her  plate. 

"  Including  baccarat,  quinze,  the  world,  the 
flesh  and  the  devil/'  said  San  Miniato. 

"  Pray  remember,  dearest  friend,  that  Beatrice 
is  at  the  table,"  observed  the  Marchesa,  with  in 
dolent  reproach  in  her  voice. 

"  I  do,"  replied  San  Miniato.  "  It  is  precisely 
for  her  sake  that  I  would  like  to  do  away  with 
the  things  I  have  named." 

"  You  might  just  leave  a  little  of  each  for 
Sundays  !  "  suggested  the  young  girl. 

"  Beatrice  !  "  exclaimed  her  mother. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

WHILE  the  little  party  sat  at  table,  the 
sailors  gathered  together  at  a  distance  among 
the  rocks,  and  presently  the  strong  red  light  of 
their  fire  shot  up  through  the  shadows,  lending 
new  contrasts  to  the  scene.  And  there  they  slung 
their  kettle  on  an  oar  and  patiently  waited  for 
the  water  to  boil,  while  the  man  known  as  the 
Gull,  always  cook  in  every  crew  in  which  he 
chanced  to  find  himself,  sat  with  the  salt  on  one 
side  of  him  and  a  big  bundle  of  macaroni  on 
the  other,  prepared  to  begin  operations  at  any 
moment. 

Ruggiero  stood  a  little  apart,  his  back  against 
a  boulder,  his  arms  crossed  and  his  eyes  fixed 
on  Beatrice's  face.  His  keen  sight  could  dis 
tinguish  the  changing  play  of  her  expression  as 
readily  at  that  distance  as  though  he  had  been 
standing  beside  her,  and  he  tried  to  catch  the 
words  she  spoke,  listening  with  a  sort  of  hurt 
envy  to  the  little  silvery  laugh  that  now  and 

133 


134  CHILDREN    OF    THE    KING. 

then  echoed  across  the  open  space  and  lost 
itself  in  the  crannies  of  the  rocks.  It  all  hurt 
him,  and  yet  for  nothing  in  the  world  would  he 
have  turned  away  or  shut  his  ears.  More  than 
once,  too,  the  thoughts  that  had  disturbed  him 
while  he  was  steering  in  the  afternoon,  came 
upon  him  with  renewed  and  startling  strength. 
He  had  in  him  some  of  that  red  old  blood  that 
does  not  stop  for  trifles  such  as  life  and  death 
when  the  hour  of  passion  burns,  and  the  brain 
reels  with  overmastering  love. 

And  Bastianello  was  not  in  a  much  better 
case,  though  his  was  less  hard  to  bear.  The 
pretty  Teresina  had  seated  herself  on  a  smooth 
rock  in  the  moonlight,  not  far  from  the  table, 
and  as  the  dishes  came  back,  the  young  sailor 
waited  on  her  and  served  her  with  unrelaxed 
attention.  Since  Ruggiero  would  not  take  ad 
vantage  of  the  situation,  his  brother  saw  no 
reason  for  not  at  least  enjoying  the  pleasure  of 
seeing  the  adorable  Teresina  eat  and  drink  as 
it  were  from  his  hand.  Why  Ruggiero  was  so 
cold,  and  stood  there  against  his  rock,  silent  and 
glowering,  Bastianello  could  not  at  all  under 
stand  ;  nor  had  he  any  thought  of  taking  an 


CHILDREN    OF    THE    KING.  135 

unfair  advantage.  Kuggiero  was  first  and  no 
one  should  interfere  with  him,  or  his  love  •  but 
Bastianello,  judging  from  what  he  felt  himself, 
fancied  that  she  might  have  given  him  some 
good  advice.  Teresina's  cheeks  flushed  with 
pleasure  and  her  eyes  sparkled  each  time  he 
brought  her  some  dainty  from  the  master's 
table,  and  she  thanked  him  in  the  prettiest  way 
imaginable,  so  that  her  voice  reminded  him  of 
the  singing  of  the  yellow-beaked  blackbird  he 
kept  in  a  cage  at  home  —  which  was  saying 
much,  for  the  blackbird  sang  well  and  sweetly. 
But  Bastianello  only  said  each  time  that  "it 
was  nothing,"  and  then  stood  silently*  waiting 
beside  her  till  she  should  finish  what  she  was 
eating  and  be  ready  for  more.  Teresina  would 
doubtless  have  enjoyed  a  little  conversation,  and 
she  looked  up  from  time  to  time  at  the  hand 
some  sailor  beside  her,  with  a  look  of  enquiry  in 
her  eyes,  as  though  to  ask  why  he  said  nothing. 
Bat  Bastianello  felt  that  he  was  on  his  honour, 
for  he  never  doubted  that  the  little  maid  was 
the  cause  of  Kuggiero' s  disease  of  the  heart  and 
indeed  of  all  that  his  brother  evidently  suffered, 
and  he  was  too  modest  by  nature  to  think  that 


136  CHILDREN    OF    THE    KING. 

Teresina  could  prefer  him  to  Ruggiero,  who  had 
always  been  the  object  of  his  own  unbounded 
devotion  and  admiration.  Presently,  when  there 
was  nothing  more  to  offer  her,  and  the  party  at 
the  table  were  lighting  their  cigarettes  over 
their  coffee,  he  went  away  and  going  up  to  Rug 
giero  drew  him  a  little  further  aside  from  the 
group  of  sailors. 

"I  want  to  tell  you  something,"  he  began. 
"You  must  not  be  as  you  are,  a  man  like  you." 

"How  may  that  be?"  asked  Ruggiero,  still 
looking  towards  the  table,  and  not  pleased  at 
being  dragged  from  his  former  post  of  observa 
tion. 

"  I  will  tell  you.  I  have  been  serving  her 
with  food.  You  could  have  done  that  instead  if 
you  had  wished.  You  could  have  talked  to  her, 
and  she  would  have  liked  it.  It  is  easy  when  a 
woman  is  sitting  apart  and  a  man  brings  her 
good  food  and  wine  —  you  could  have  spoken  a 
word  into  her  ear." 

Ruggiero  was  silent,  but  he  slowly  nodded 
twice,  then  shook  his  head. 

"You  do  not  say  anything,"  continued  Bas- 
tianello,  "  and  you  do  wrong.  What  I  tell  you 


CHILDREN    OF    THE    KING.  137 

is  true,  and  you  cannot  deny  it.  After  all,  we 
are  men  and  they  are  women.  Are  they  to 
speak  first?" 

"It  is  just/'  answered  Ruggiero  laconically. 

"  But  then,  per  Dio,  go  and  talk  to  her.  Are 
you  going  to  begin  giving  her  the  gold  before 
you  have  spoken  ? " 

From  which  question  it  will  be  clear  to  the 
unsophisticated  foreigner  that  a  regular  series  of 
presents  in  jewelry  is  the  natural  accompani 
ment  of  a  well-to-do  courtship  in  the  south.  The 
trinkets  are  called  collectively  "the  gold." 

Ruggiero  did  not  find  a  ready  answer  to  so 
strong  an  argument.  Little  guessing  that  his 
brother  was  almost  as  much  in  love  with  Tere- 
sina  as  he  himself  was  with  her  mistress,  he  saw 
no  reason  for  undeceiving  him  concerning  his 
own  feelings.  Since  Bastianello  had  discovered 
that  he,  Ruggiero,  was  suffering  from  an  acute 
attack  of  the  affections,  it  had  become  the 
latter' s  chief  object  to  conceal  the  real  truth. 
It  was  not  so  much  that  he  dreaded  the  ridicule 
—  he,  a  poor  sailor  —  of  being  known  to  love  a 
great  lady's  daughter ;  ridicule  was  not  among 
the  things  he  feared.  But  something  far  too 


138  CHILDREN    OF    THE    KING. 

subtle  for  him  to  define  made  him  keep  his 
secret  to  himself  —  an  inborn,  chivalrous,  manly 
instinct,  inherited  through  generations  of  peas 
ants  but  surviving  still,  as  the  trace  of  gold  in 
the  ashes  of  a  rich  stuff  that  has  had  gilded 
threads  in  it. 

"  If  I  did  begin  with  the  gold,"  he  said  at  last, 
"  and  if  she  would  not  have  me  when  I  spoke 
afterwards,  she  would  give  the  gold  back." 

"  Of  course  she  would.  What  do  you  take 
her  for  ?  "  Bastianello  asked  the  question  almost 
angrily,  for  he  loved  Teresina  and  he  resented 
the  slightest  imputation  upon  her  fair  dealing. 

Ruggiero  looked  at  him  curiously,  but  was  far 
too  much  preoccupied  with  his  own  thoughts  to 
guess  what  the  matter  was.  He  turned  away 
and  went  towards  the  fire  where  the  Gull  was 
already  tasting  a  slippery  string  of  the  macaroni 
to  find  out  whether  it  were  enough  cooked. 
Bastianello  shrugged  his  shoulders  and  followed 
him  in  silence.  Before  long  they  were  all  seated 
round  the  huge  earthen  dish,  each  armed  with  an 
iron  fork  in  one  hand  and  a  ship  biscuit  in  the 
other,  with  which  to  catch  the  drippings  neatly, 
according  to  good  manners,  in  conveying  the  full 


CHILDREN    OF    THE    KING.  139 

fork  from  the  dish  to  the  wide-opened  mouth. 
By  and  by  there  was  a  sound  of  liquid  gurgling 
from  a  demijohn  as  it  was  poured  into  the  big 
jug,  and  the  wine  went  round  quickly  from  hand 
to  hand,  while  those  who  waited  for  their  turn 
munched  their  biscuits.  Some  one  has  said  that 
great  appetites,  like  great  passions,  are  silent. 
Hardly  a  word  was  said  until  the  wine  was 
passed  a  second  time  with  a  ration  of  hard 
cheese  and  another  biscuit.  Then  the  tongues 
were  unloosed  and  the  strange,  uncouth  jests  of 
the  rough  men  circulated  in  an  undertone,  and 
now  and  then  one  of  them  suffered  agonies  in 
smothering  a  huge  laugh,  lest  his  mirth  should 
disturb  the  "  excellencies  "  at  their  table.  The 
latter,  however,  were  otherwise  engaged  and  paid 
little  attention  to  the  sailors. 

The  Marchesa  di  Mola,  having  eaten  about  six 
mouthfuls  of  twice  that  number  of  delicacies  and 
having  swallowed  half  a  glass  of  champagne  and 
a  cup  of  coffee,  was  extended  in  her  cane  rock 
ing-chair,  with  her  back  to  the  moon  and  her 
face  to  the  lamp,  trying  to  imagine  herself  in 
her  comfortable  sitting  room  at  the  hotel,  or 
even  in  her  own  luxurious  boudoir  in  her  Sicil- 


140  CHILDREN    OF    THE    KING. 

ian  home.  The  attempt  was  fairly  successful, 
and  the  result  was  a  passing  taste  of  that  self- 
satisfied  beatitude  which  is  the  peculiar  and 
enviable  lot  of  very  lazy  people  after  dinner. 
She  cared  for  nothing  and  she  cared  for  nobody. 
San  Miniato  and  Beatrice  might  sit  over  there 
by  the  water's  edge,  in  the  moonlight,  and  talk 
in  low  tones  as  long  as  they  pleased.  There 
were  no  tiresome  people  from  the  hotel  to  watch 
their  proceedings,  and  nothing  better  could 
happen  than  that  they  should  fall  in  love,  be 
engaged  and  married  forthwith.  That  was  cer 
tainly  not  the  way  the  Marchesa  could  have 
wished  the  courtship  and  marriage  to  develop 
and  come  to  maturity,  if  there  had  been  wit 
nesses  of  the  facts  from  amongst  her  near 
acquaintance.  But  since  there  was  nobody  to 
see,  and  since  it  was  quite  impossible  that  she 
should  run  after  the  pair  when  they  chose  to 
leave  her  side,  resignation  was  the  best  policy, 
resignation  without  effort,  without  fatigue  and 
without  qualms.  Moreover,  San  Miniato  him 
self  had  told  her  that  in  some  of  the  best 
families  in  the  north  of  Italy  it  was  considered 
permissible  for  a  man  to  offer  himself  directly 


CHILDREN    OF    THE    KING.  141 

to  a  young  lady,  and  San  Miniato  was  undoubt 
edly  familiar  with  the  usages  of  the  very  best 
society.  It  was  quite  safe  to  trust  to  him. 

San  Miniato  himself  would  have  greatly  pre 
ferred  to  leave  the  negotiations  in  the  hands  of 
the  Marchesa  and  would  have  done  so  had  he 
not  known  that  she  possessed  no  power  what 
ever  over  Beatrice.  But  he  saw  that  the 
Marchesa,  however  much  she  might  desire  the 
marriage,  would  never  exert  herself  to  influence 
her  daughter.  She  was  far  too  indolent,  and  at 
heart,  perhaps,  too  indifferent,  and  she  knew  the 
value  of  money  and  especially  of  her  own.  San 
Miniato  made  up  his  mind  that  if  he  won  at  all, 
it  must  be  upon  his  own  merits  and  by  his  own 
efforts. 

He  had  not  found  it  hard  to  lead  Beatrice 
away  from  the  lamp  when  dinner  was  over,  and 
after  walking  about  on  the  rocks  for  a  few  min 
utes  he  proposed  that  they  should  sit  down  near 
the  water,  facing  the  moonlit  sea.  Beatrice  sat 
upon  a  smooth  projection  and  San  Miniato  placed 
himself  at  her  feet,  in  such  a  position  that  he 
could  look  up  into  her  face  and  talk  to  her  with 
out  raising  his  voice. 


142  CHILDREN    OF    THE    KING. 

"  So  you  are  glad  you  came  here,  Donna 
Beatrice/'  he  said. 

"  Very  glad/'  she  answered.  "  It  is  some 
thing  I  have  never  seen  before  —  something  I 
shall  never  forget,  as  long  as  I  live." 

"Nor  I." 

"  Have  you  a  good  memory  ?  " 

"  For  some  things,  not  for  others." 

"  For  what,  for  instance  ?  " 

"For  those  I  love  —  " 

"  And  a  bad  memory  for  those  whom  you  have 
loved/'  suggested  Beatrice  with  a  smile. 

"  Have  you  any  reason  for  saying  that  ? " 
asked  San  Miniato  gravely.  "  You  know  too 
little  of  me  and  my  life  to  judge  of  either.  I 
have  not  loved  many,  and  I  have  remembered 
them  well." 

"  How  many  ?  A  dozen,  more  or  less  ?  Or 
twenty?  Or  a  hundred?" 

"  Two.  One  is  dead,  and  one  has  forgotten 
me." 

Beatrice  was  silent.  It  was  admirably  done, 
and  for  the  first  time  he  made  her  believe  that 
he  was  in  earnest.  It  had  not  been  very  hard 
for  him  either,  for  there  was  a  foundation  of 


CHILDREN    OF    THE    KING.  143 

truth  in  what  he  said.  He  had  not  always  been 
a  man  without  heart. 

"  It  is  much  to  have  loved  twice,"  said  the 
young  girl  at  last,  in  a  dreamy  voice.  She  was 
thinking  of  what  had  passed  through  her  mind 
that  afternoon. 

"  It  is  much  —  but  not  enough.  What  has 
never  been  lived  out,  is  never  enough." 

"  Perhaps  —  but  who  could  love  three  times  ?  " 

"  Any  man  —  and  the  third  might  be  the  best 
and  the  strongest,  as  well  as  the  last." 

"  To  me  it  seems  impossible." 

San  Miniato  had  got  his  chance  and  he  knew 
it.  He  was  nervous  and  not  sure  of  himself,  for 
he  knew  very  well  that  she  had  but  a  passing 
attraction  for  him,  beyond  the  very  solid  induce 
ment  to  marry  her  offered  by  her  fortune.  But 
he  knew  that  the  opportunity  must  not  be  lost, 
and  he  did  not  waste  time.  He  spoke  quietly, 
not  wishing  to  risk  a  dramatic  effect  until  he 
could  count  on  his  own  rather  slight  histrionic 
powers. 

"  So  it  seems  impossible  to  you,  Donna  Bea 
trice,"  he  said,  in  a  musing  tone.  "Well,  I  dare 
say  it  does.  Many  things  must  seem  impossible 


144  CHILDREN    OF    THE    KING. 

to  you  which  are  rather  startling  facts  to  me. 
I  am  older  than  you,  I  am  a  man,  and  I  have 
been  a  soldier.  I  have  lived  a  life  such  as  you 
cannot  dream  of  —  not  worse  perhaps  than  that 
of  many  another  man,  but  certainly  not  better. 
And  I  am  quite  sure  that  if  I  gave  you  my  his 
tory  you  would  not  understand  four-fifths  of  it, 
and  the  other  fifth  would  shock  you.  Of  course 
it  would  —  how  could  it  be  otherwise  ?  How 
could  you  and  I  look  at  anything  from  quite  the 
same  point  of  view?" 

"And  yet  we  often  agree,"  said  Beatrice, 
thoughtfully. 

"  Yes,  we  do.  That  is  quite  true.  And  that 
is  because  a  certain  sympathy  exists  between  us. 
I  feel  that  very  much  when  I  am  with  you,  and 
that  is  one  reason  why  I  try  to  be  with  you  as 
much  as  possible." 

"  You  say  that  is  one  reason.  Have  you  many 
others  ? "  Beatrice  tried  to  laugh  a  little,  but  she 
felt  somehow  that  laughter  was  out  of  place  and 
that  a  serious  moment  in  her  life  had  come  at 
last,  in  which  it  would  be  wiser  to  be  grave  and 
to  think  well  of  what  she  was  doing. 

"  One    chief    one,    and    many    little    ones," 


CHILDREN    OF    THE    KING.  145 

answered  San  Miniato.  "  You  are  good  to  me, 
you  are  young,  you  are  fresh  —  you  are  gifted 
and  unlike  the  others,  and  you  have  a  rare  charm 
such  as  I  never  met  in  any  woman.  Are  those 
not  all  good  reasons?  Are  they  not  enough?" 

"  If  they  were  all  true,  they  would  be  more 
than  enough.  Is  the  chief  reason  the  last  ? " 

"  It  is  the  last  of  all.  I  have  not  given  it  to 
you  yet.  Some  things  are  better  not  said  at  all." 

"  They  must  be  bad  things,"  answered  Beatrice, 
with  an  air  of  innocence. 

She  was  beginning  to  understand,  at  last,  that 
he  really  intended  to  make  her  a  declaration  of 
love.  It  was  unheard  of,  almost  inconceivable. 
But  there  he  was  at  her  feet,  looking  very  hand 
some  in  the  moonlight,  his  face  turned  up  to 
hers  with  an  unmistakable  look  of  devotion  in 
its  rather  grave  lines.  His  voice,  too,  had  a  new 
sound  in  it.  Indifferent  as  he  might  be  by  day 
light  and  in  ordinary  life,  the  magic  of  the  place 
and  scene  affected  him  a  little  at  the  present 
moment.  Perhaps  a  memory  of  other  years, 
when  his  pulse  had  quickened  and  his  voice 
had  trembled  oddly,  just  touched  his  heart  now 
and  it  responded  with  a  faint  thrill.  For  a 


146  CHILDREN    OF    THE    KING. 

moment  at  least  he  forgot  his  sordid  plan,  and 
Beatrice's  own  personal  attraction  was  upon 
him. 

And  she  was  very  lovely  as  she  sat  there, 
looking  down  at  him,  with  white  folded  hands, 
hatless  in  the  warm  night,  her  eyes  full  of  the 
dancing  rays  that  trembled  upon  the  softly 
rippling  water. 

"  If  they  are  not  bad  things,"  she  said,  speak 
ing  again,  "  why  do  you  not  tell  them  to  me  ? " 

"  You  would  laugh." 

"  I  have  laughed  enough  to-night.     Tell  me  !  " 

"  Tell  you  !  Yes  —  that  is  easy  to  do.  But  it 
would  be  so  hard  to  make  you  understand  !  It 
is  the  difference  between  a  word  and  a  thought, 
between  belief  and  mere  show,  between  truth 
and  hearsay  —  more  than  that  —  much  more 
than  I  can  tell  you.  It  means  so  much  to  me  — 
it  may  mean  so  little  to  you,  when  I  have  said 
it!" 

"  But  if  you  do  not  say  it,  how  can  I  guess  it, 
or  try  to  understand  it  ?  " 

"  Would  you  try  ?     Would  you  ? " 

"Yes." 

Her  voice  was  soft,  gentle,  persuasive.     She 


CHILDEEN    OF    THE    KING.  147 

felt  something  she  had  never  felt,  and  it  must  be 
love,  she  thought.  She  had  always  liked  him  a 
little  better  than  the  rest.  But  surely,  this  was 
more  than  mere  liking.  She  had  a  strange  long 
ing  to  hear  him  say  the  words,  to  start,  as  her 
instinct  told  her  she  must,  when  he  spoke  them, 
to  be  told  for  the  first  time  that  she  was  loved. 
Is  it  strange,  after  all  ?  Young,  imaginative  and 
full  of  life,  she  had  been  brought  up  to  believe 
that  she  was  to  be  married  to  some  man  she 
scarcely  knew,  after  a  week's  acquaintance,  with 
out  so  much  as  having  talked  five  minutes  with 
him  alone ;  she  had  been  taught  that  love  was 
a  legend  and  matrimony  a  matter  of  interest. 
And  yet  here  was  the  man  whom  her  mother  un 
doubtedly  wished  her  to  marry,  not  only  talking 
with  her  as  they  had  often  talked  before,  with  no 
one  to  hear  what  was  said,  but  actually  on  the 
verge  of  telling  her  that  he  loved  her.  Could 
anything  be  more  delicious,  more  original,  more 
in  harmony  with  the  place  and  hour  ?  And  as  if 
all  this  were  not  enough,  she  really  felt  the  touch 
and  thrill  of  love  in  her  own  heart,  and  the  leap 
ing  wonder  to  know  what  was  to  come. 

She  had  told  him  to  speak  and  she  waited  for 


148  CHILDREN    OF    THE    KING. 

his  voice.  He,  on  his  part,  knew  that  much  was 
at  stake,  for  he  saw  that  she  was  moved,  and  that 
all  depended  on  his  words.  The  fewer  the  better, 
he  thought,  if  only  there  could  be  a  note  of 
passion  in  them,  if  only  one  of  them  could  ring 
as  all  of  poor  Ruggiero's  had  rung  when  he  had 
spoken  that  afternoon.  He  hesitated  and  hesi 
tation  would  be  fatal  if  it  lasted  another  five 
seconds.  He  grew  desperate.  Where  were  the 
words  and  the  tone  that  had  broken  down  the 
will  of  other  women,  far  harder  to  please  than 
this  mere  child?  He  felt  everything  at  once, 
except  love.  He  saw  her  fortune  slipping  from 
him  at  the  very  moment  of  getting  it,  he  felt  a 
little  contempt  for  the  part  he  was  playing  and 
a  sovereign  scorn  for  his  own  imbecility,  he  even 
anticipated  the  Marchesa's  languid  but  cutting 
comments  on  his  failure.  One  second  more,  and 
all  was  lost  —  but  not  a  word  would  come.  Then, 
in  sheer  despair  and  with  a  violence  that  betrayed 
it,  he  seized  one  of  Beatrice's  hands  in  both  of  his 
and  kissed  it  madly  a  score  of  times.  As  she 
interpreted  the  action,  no  eloquence  of  words 
could  have  told  her  more  of  what  she  wished  to 
hear.  It  was  unexpected,  it  was  passionate ;  if  it 


CHILDREN    OF    THE    KING.  149 

had  been  premeditated,  it  would  have  been  a 
stroke  of  genius.  As  it  was,  it  was  a  stroke  of 
luck  for  San  Miniato.  With  the  true  gambler's 
instinct  he  saw  that  he  was  winning  and  his  hesi 
tation  disappeared.  His  voice  trembled  passion 
ately  now  with  excitement,  if  not  with  love  — 
but  it  was  the  same  to  Beatrice,  who  heard  the 
quick-spoken  words  that  followed,  and  drank 
them  in  as  a  thirsty  man  swallows  the  first 
draught  of  wine  he  can  lay  hands  on,  be  it  ever 
so  acid. 

At  the  first  moment  she  had  been  startled 
and  had  almost  uttered  a  short  cry,  half  of 
delight  and  half  of  fear.  But  she  had  no  wish 
to  alarm  her  mother  and  the  quick  thought 
stifled  her  voice.  She  tried  to  withdraw  her 
hand,  but  he  held  it  tightly  in  his  own  which 
were  cold  as  ice,  and  she  sat  still  listening  to  all 
he  said. 

"  Ah,  Beatrice  !  "  he  was  saying,  "you  have 
given  me  back  life  itself !  Can  you  guess  what 
I  have  lived  through  in  these  days  ?  Can  you 
imagine  how  I  have  thought  of  you  and  suffered 
day  and  night,  and  said  to  myself  that  I  should 
never  have  your  love  ?  Can  you  dream  what 


150  CHILDREN    OF    THE    KING. 

it  must  be  to  a  man  like  me,  lonely,  friendless, 
half  heart-broken,  to  find  the  one  jewel  worth 
living  for,  the  one  light  worth  seeking,  the  one 
woman  worth  loving  —  and  then  to  long  for  her 
almost  without  hope,  and  so  long  ?  It  is  long, 
too.  Who  counts  the  days  or  the  weeks  when 
he  loves  ?  It  is  as  though  we  had  loved  from 
the  beginning  of  our  lives !  Can  you  or  I 
imagine  what  it  all  was  like  before  we  met  ?  I 
cannot  remember  that  past  time.  I  had  no  life 
before  it  —  it  is  all  forgotten,  all  gone,  all  buried 
and  for  ever.  You  have  made  everything  new 
to  me,  new  and  beautiful  and  full  of  light  —  ah, 
Beatrice  !  How  I  love  you  !  " 

Eather  a  long  speech  at  such  a  moment,  an 
older  woman  would  have  thought,  and  not  over 
original  in  choice  of  similes  and  epithets,  but 
fluent  enough  and  good  enough  to  serve  the 
purpose  and  to  turn  the  current  of  Beatrice's 
girlish  life.  Yet  not  much  of  a  love-speech. 
Ruggiero's  had  been  better,  as  a  little  true  steel 
is  better  than  much  iron  at  certain  moments  in 
life.  It  succeeded  very  well  at  the  moment,  but 
its  ultimate  success  would  have  been  surer  if  it 
had  reached  no  ears  but  Beatrice's.  Neither 


CHILDREN    OF    THE    KING.  151 

she  nor  San  Miniato  were  aware  that  a  few  feet 
below  them  a  man  was  lying  on  his  back,  with 
white  face  and  clenched  hands,  staring  at  the 
pale  moonlit  sky  above  him,  and  listening  in 
stony  despair  to  every  word  that  was  spoken. 

The  sight  would  have  disturbed  them,  had 
they  seen  it,  though  they  both  were  fearless  by 
nature  and  not  easily  startled.  Had  Beatrice 
seen  Ruggiero  at  that  moment,  she  would  have 
learned  once  and  for  ever  the  difference  between 
real  passion  and  its  counterfeit.  But  Ruggiero 
knew  where  he  was  and  had  no  intention  of 
betraying  himself  by  voice  or  movement.  He 
suffered  almost  all  that  a  man  can  suffer  by  the 
heart  alone,  but  he  was  strong  and  could  bear 
torture. 

The  hardest  of  all  was  that  he  understood  the 
real  truth,  partly  by  instinct  and  partly  through 
what  he  knew  of  his  master.  Those  rough 
southern  sailors  sometimes  have  a  wonderful 
keenness  in  discovering  the  meaning  of  their 
masters'  doings.  Ruggiero  held  the  key  to  the 
situation.  He  knew  that  San  Miniato  was  poor 
and  that  the  Marchesa  was  very  rich.  He  knew 
very  well  that  San  Miniato  was  not  at  all  in 


152  CHILDREN    OF    THE    KING. 

love,  for  he  knew  what  love  really  meant,  and 
he  could  see  how  the  Count  always  acted  by 
calculation  and  never  from  impulse.  Best  of 
all  he  saw  that  Beatrice  was  a  mere  child  who 
was  being  deceived  by  the  coolly  assumed  pas 
sion  of  a  veteran  woman-killer.  It  was  bitterly 
hard  to  bear.  And  he  had  felt  a  foreboding  of 
it  all  in  the  afternoon  —  and  he  wished  that  he 
had  risked  all  and  brought  down  the  brass  tiller 
on  San  Miniato's  head  and  submitted  to  be  sent 
to  the  galleys  for  life.  He  could  never  have 
forgotten  Beatrice ;  but  San  Miniato  could  never 
have  married  her,  and  that  satisfaction  would 
have  made  chains  light  and  hard  labour  a  pas 
time. 

It  was  too  late  to  think  of  such  things  now. 
Had  he  yielded  to  the  first  murderous  impulse, 
it  would  have  been  better.  But  he  had  never 
struck  a  man  from  behind  and  he  knew  that  he 
could  not  do  it  in  cold  blood.  Yet  how  much 
better  it  would  have  been !  He  would  not  be 
lying  now  on  the  rock,  holding  his  breath  and 
clenching  his  fists,  listening  to  his  Excellency 
the  Count  of  San  Miniato's  love  making.  By 
this  time  the  Count  of  San  Miniato  would  be 


CHILDREN    OF    THE    KING.  153 

cold,  and  he,  Ruggiero,  would  be  handcuffed 
and  locked  up  in  the  little  barrack  of  the 
gendarmes  at  Sorrento,  and  Beatrice  with  her 
mother  would  be  recovering  from  their  fright 
as  best  they  could  in  the  rooms  at  the  hotel, 
and  Teresina  would  be  crying,  and  Bastianello 
would  be  sitting  at  the  door  of  his  brother's 
prison  waiting  to  see  what  happened  and  ready 
to  do  what  he  could.  Truly  all  this  would  have 
been  much  better  !  But  the  moment  had  passed 
and  he  must  lie  on  his  rock  in  silence,  bound 
hand  and  foot  by  the  necessity  of  hiding  him 
self,  and  giving  his  heart  to  be  torn  to  pieces 
by  San  Miniato's  aristocratic  fine  gentleman's 
hands,  and  burned  through  and  through  by 
Beatrice's  gentle  words. 

"  And  so  you  really  love  me  ? "  said  San 
Miniato,  sure  at  last  of  his  victory. 

"  Do  you  doubt  it,  after  what  I  have  done  ?  " 
asked  Beatrice  in  a  very  soft  voice.  "Did  I  not 
leave  my  hand  in  yours  when  you  took  it  so 
roughly  and  —  you  know  —  " 

"  When  I  kissed  it  —  but  I  want  the  words, 
too  —  only  once,  from  your  beautiful  lips  —  " 

"  The  words  —  "   Beatrice  hesitated.      They 


154  CHILDKEN    OF    THE    KING. 

were  too  new  to  her  lips,  and  a  soft  blush  rose 
in  her  cheeks,  visible  even  in  the  moonlight. 

Ruggiero's  heart  stood  still  —  not  for  the  first 
time  that  day.  Would  she  speak  the  three 
syllables  or  not  ? 

As  for  San  Miniato,  his  excitement  had  cooled, 
and  he  threw  all  the  tenderness  he  could  muster 
into  his  last  request,  with  instinctive  tact  re 
turning  to  the  more  quiet  tone  he  had  used  at 
the  beginning  of  the  conversation. 

"  I  ask  you,  Beatrice  mia,  to  say  — "  he 
paused,  to  give  the  proper  effect  in  the  right 
place  —  "I  love  you,"  he  said,  completing  the 
sentence  very  musically  and  looking  up  most 
tenderly  into  her  eyes. 

She  sighed,  blushed  again,  and  turned  her 
head  away.  Then  quite  suddenly  she  looked  at 
him  once  more,  pressed  his  hand  nervously  and 
spoke. 

"  I  love  you,  carissimo,"  she  said,  and  rose  at 
the  same  moment  from  her  seat.  "  Come  —  it 
is  time.  Mamma  will  be  tired,"  she  added, 
while  he  held  her  hand  and  pressed  it  to 
his  lips. 

Her  confusion  had  made  it  easy  for  him.     He 


CHILDREN    OF    THE    KING.  155 

would  have  had  difficulty  in  ending  the  scene 
artistically  if  she  had  not  unconsciously  helped 
him. 

Ruggiero  clenched  his  hands  a  little  tighter 
and  tried  not  to  breathe. 

"  It  is  a  lie,"  he  said  in  his  heart,  but  his 
lips  never  moved,  nor  did  he  stir  a  limb  as  he 
listened  to  the  departing  footsteps  on  the  ledge 
above. 

Then  with  the  ease  of  great  strength  he  drew 
himself  along  through  cranny  and  hollow  till  he 
was  far  from  where  they  sat,  and  had  reached 
the  place  where  the  boats  were  made  fast.  It 
would  seem  natural  to  every  one  that  he  should 
suddenly  be  standing  there  to  see  that  all  was 
right,  and  that  none  of  the  moorings  had  slipped 
or  chafed  against  the  jagged  rocks.  There  he 
stood,  gazing  at  the  rippling  water,  at  the  tall 
yards  as  they  slowly  crossed  and  recrossed  the 
face  of  the  moon,  with  the  rocking  of  the  boats, 
at  the  cliffs  to  the  right  and  left,  at  the  dim  head 
land  of  the  Campanella,  at  all  the  sights  long 
familiar  to  him  —  seeing  none  of  them  and  yet 
feeling  that  they  at  least  were  his  own  people, 
that  they  understood  him  and  knew  what  he 


156  CHILDREN    OF    THE    KING. 

felt  —  what  he  had  no  words  with  which  to  tell 
any  one,  if  he  had  wished  to  tell  it. 

For  he  who  loves  and  is  little  loved,  or  not  at 
all,  has  no  friend,  be  he  of  high  estate  or  low, 
beyond  nature,  the  deep-bosomed,  the  bountiful, 
the  true  ;  and  on  her  he  may  lean,  trusting,  and 
know  that  he  will  not  be  betrayed.  And  in  time 
her  language  will  be  his.  But  she  will  be  heard 
alone  when  she  speaks  with  him,  and  without 
rival,  with  the  full  right  of  a  woman  who  gives 
all  her  love  and  asks  for  a  man's  soul  in  return, 
recking  little  of  all  the  world  besides.  But  not 
all  know  how  kind  she  is,  how  merciful  and  how 
sweet.  For  she  does  not  heal  broken  hearts.  She 
takes  them  as  they  are  into  her  own,  with  all  the 
memory  and  all  the  sin,  perhaps,  and  all  the 
bitter  sorrow  which  is  the  reward  of  faith  and 
faithlessness  alike.  She  takes  them  all,  and  holds 
them  kindly  in  hex  own  breast,  as  she  has  taken 
the  torn  limbs  of  martyred  saints  and  tortured 
sinners  and  has  softly  turned  them  all  into  a 
fragrant  dust.  And  though  the  ashes  of  the 
heart  be  very  bitter,  they  are  after  all  but  dust, 
which  cannot  feel  of  itself  any  more.  Yet  there 
may  be  something  left  behind,  in  the  place  where 


CHILDREN    OF    THE    KING.  157 

it  lived  and  was  broken  and  died,  which  is  not 
wholly  bad,  though  there  be  little  good  in  this 
earth  where  there  is  no  heart. 

Moreover,  nature  is  a  silent  mistress  to  all 
but  those  who  love  her,  and  she  tells  no  tales  as 
men  and  women  do,  and  forgets  none  of  the 
secrets  which  are  told  to  her,  for  they  are  our 
treasures  —  treasures  of  love  and  of  hate,  of 
sweetness  and  of  poison,  which  we  lay  up  in  her 
keeping  when  we  are  alone  with  her,  sure  that 
we  shall  find  again  all  we  have  given  up  if  we 
require  it  of  her.  But  as  the  years  blossom, 
bloom,  and  fade  in  their  quick  succession,  the 
day  will  come  when  we  shall  ask  of  her  only 
the  balm  and  be  glad  to  leave  the  poison  hidden, 
and  to  forget  how  we  would  have  used  it  in  old 
days  —  when  we  shall  ask  her  only  to  give  us 
the  memory  of  a  dear  and  gentle  hand  —  dear 
still  but  no  longer  kind  —  of  the  voice  that  was 
once  a  harmony,  and  whose  harsh  discord  is 
almost  music  still  —  of  the  hour  when  love  was 
twofold,  stainless  and  supreme.  Those  things  we 
shall  ask  of  her  and  she,  in  her  wonderful  tender 
ness,  will  give  them  to  us  again  —  in  dreams, 
waking  or  sleeping,  in  the  sunlit  silence  of  lonely 


158  CHILDREN    OF    THE    KING. 

places,  in  soft  nights  when  the  southern  sea  is 
still,  in  the  greater  loneliness  of  the  storm,  when 
brave  faces  are  set  as  stone  and  freezing  hands 
grasp  frozen  ropes,  and  the  shadow  of  death  rises 
from  the  waves  and  stands  between  every  man 
and  his  fellows.  We  shall  ask,  and  we  shall 
receive.  Out  of  noon-day  shadow,  out  of  the 
starlit  dusk,  out  of  the  driving  spray  of  the 
midtempest,  one  face  will  rise,  one  hand  will 
touch  our  own,  one  loving,  lingering  glance  will 
meet  ours  from  eyes  that  have  no  look  of  love 
for  us  in  them  now.  These  things  our  lady 
nature  will  give  us  of  all  those  we  have  given 
her.  But  of  the  others,  we  shall  not  ask  for 
them,  and  she  will  mercifully  forget  for  us  the 
bitterness  of  their  birth,  and  life,  and  death. 


CHAPTER   VII. 

"I  THOUGHT  I  was  never  to  see  you  again," 
observed  the  Marchesa,  as  Beatrice  and  San 
Miniato  came  to  her  side. 

"  Judging  from  your  calm,  you  were  bearing 
the  separation  with  admirable  fortitude/'  an 
swered  the  Count. 

"  Dearest  friend,  one  has  to  bear  so  much  in 
this  life !  " 

Beatrice  stood  beside  the  table,  resting  one 
hand  upon  it  and  looking  back  towards  the  place 
where  she  had  been  sitting.  San  Miniato  took 
the  Marchesa's  hand  and  raised  it  to  his  lips, 
pressed  it  a  little  and  then  nodded  slowly,  with  a 
significant  look.  The  Marchesa's  sleepy  eyes 
opened  suddenly  with  an  expression  of  startled 
satisfaction,  and  she  returned  the  pressure  of  the 
fingers  with  more  energy  than  San  Miniato  had 
suspected.  She  was  evidently  very  much  pleased. 
Perhaps  the  greatest  satisfaction  of  all  was  the 
certainty  that  she  was  to  have  no  more  trouble 

159 


160  CHILDREN    OF    THE    KING. 

in  the  matter,  since  it  had  been  undertaken, 
negotiated  and  settled  by  the  principals  between 
them.  Then  she  raised  her  eyebrows  and  moved 
her  head  a  little  as  though  to  inquire  what  had 
taken  place,  but  San  Miniato  made  her  under 
stand  by  a  sign  that  he  could  not  speak  before 
Beatrice. 

"  Beatrice,  my  angel,"  said  the  Marchesa,  with 
more  than  usual  sweetness,  "  you  have  sat  so  long 
upon  that  rock  that  you  have  almost  reconciled 
me  to  Tragara.  Do  you  not  think  that  you  could 
go  back  and  sit  there  five  minutes  longer  ? " 

Beatrice  glanced  quickly  at  her  mother  and 
then  at  San  Miniato  and  turned  away  without  a 
word,  leaving  the  two  together. 

"  And  now,  San  Miniato  carissimo,"  said  the 
Marchesa,  "sit  down  beside  me  on  that  chair, 
and  tell  me  what  has  happened,  though  I  think 
I  already  understand.  You  have  spoken  to 
Beatrice  ?  " 

"  I  have  spoken  —  yes  —  and  the  result  is 
favourable.  I  am  the  happiest  of  men." 

"  Do  you  mean  to  say  that  she  answered  you 
at  once?"  asked  the  Marchesa,  affecting,  as 
usual,  to  be  scandalised. 


CHILDREN    OF    THE    KING.  161 

"  She  answered  me  —  yes,  dear  Marchesa  — 
she  told  me  that  she  loved  me.  It  only  remains 
for  me  to  claim  the  maternal  blessing  which  you 
so  generously  promised  in  advance." 

Somehow  it  was  a  relief  to  him  to  return  to 
the  rather  stiff  and  over-formal  phraseology 
which  he  always  used  on  important  occasions 
when  speaking  to  her,  and  which,  as  he  well 
knew,  flattered  her  desire  to  be  thought  a  very 
great  lady. 

"  As  for  my  blessing,  you  shall  have  it,  and 
at  once.  But  indeed,  I  am  most  curious  to 
know  exactly  what  she  said,  and  what  you  said 
—  I,  who  am  never  curious  about  anything  !  " 

"  Two  words  tell  the  story.  I  told  her  I 
loved  her  and  she  answered  that  she  loved  me." 

"  Dearest  friend,  how  long  it  took  you  to  say 
those  two  words !  You  must  have  hesitated  a 
good  deal." 

"  To  tell  the  truth,  there  was  more  said  than 
that.  I  will  not  deny  the  grave  imputation.  I 
spoke  of  my  past  life  —  " 

"  Dio  mio  !  To  my  daughter  !  How  could 
you  — "  The  Marchesa  raised  her  hands  and 
let  them  fall  again. 


162  CHILDREN    OF    THE    KING. 

"  But  why  not  ? "  asked  San  Miniato,  sup 
pressing  a  smile.  "Have  I  been  such  an 
impossibly  bad  man  that  the  very  mention  of 
my  past  must  shock  a  young  girl  —  whom  I 
love?  "  In  the  last  words  he  found  an  opportu 
nity  to  practise  the  expression  of  a  little  passion, 
and  took  advantage  of  it,  well  knowing  that  it 
would  be  useful  in  the  immediate  future. 

"  I  never  said  that  !  "  protested  the  Marchesa. 
"But  we  all  know  something  about  you,  dear 
Don  Juan !  " 

"  Calumnies,  nothing  but  calumnies  !  " 

"  But  such  pretty  calumnies  —  you  might 
almost  accept  them.  I  should  think  none  the 
worse  of  you  if  they  were  all  true." 

"  You  are  charming,  dearest  Marchesa.  I  kiss 
your  generous  hand !  As  a  matter  of  fact,  I 
only  told  Donna  Beatrice  —  may  I  call  her 
Beatrice  to  you  now,  as  I  have  long  called 
her  in  my  heart  ?  I  only  told  her  that  I  had 
been  unhappy,  that  I  had  loved  twice  —  once 
a  woman  who  is  dead,  once  another  who  has 
long  ago  forgotten  me.  That  was  all.  Was 
it  so  very  bad  ?  Her  heart  was  softened  —  she 
is  so  gentle!  And  then  I  told  her  that  a 


CHILDREN    OF    THE    KING.  163 

greater  and  stronger  passion  than  those  now 
filled  my  present  life,  and  last  of  all  I  told  her 
that  I  loved  her." 

"And  she  returned  the  compliment  imme 
diately  ? "  asked  the  Marchesa,  slowly  selecting 
a  sugared  chestnut  from  the  plate  beside  her, 
turning  it  round,  examining  it  and  at  last  put 
ting  it  into  her  mouth. 

"  How  lightly  you  speak  of  what  concerns 
life  and  death!"  sighed  San  Miniato.  "No  — 
Beatrice  did  not  answer  immediately.  I  said 
much  more  —  far  more  than  I  can  remember. 
How  can  you  ask  me  to  repeat  word  for  word 
the  unpremeditated  outpourings  of  a  happy  pas 
sion  ?  The  flood  has  swept  by,  leaving  deep 
traces — but  who  can  remember  where  the 
eddies  and  rapids  were  ?" 

"  You  are  very  poetical,  caro  mio.  Your 
language  delights  me  —  it  is  the  language  of  the 
heart.  Pray  give  me  one  of  those  little  ciga 
rettes  you  smoke.  Yes  —  and  a  light — and 
now  the  least  drop  of  champagne.  I  will  drink 
your  health." 

"  And  I  both  yours  and  Beatrice's,"  answered 
San  Miniato,  filling  his  own  glass. 


164  CHILDREN    OF    THE    KING. 

"  You  may  put  Beatrice  first,  since  she  is 
yours." 

"  But  without  you  there  would  be  no  Beatrice, 
gentilissima,"  said  the  Count  gallantly,  when  he 
had  emptied  his  glass. 

"  That  is  true,  and  pretty  besides.  And  so," 
continued  the  Marchesa  in  a  tone  of  languid 
reflection,  "you  have  actually  been  making  love 
to  my  daughter,  beyond  my  hearing,  alone  on 
the  rocks  —  and  I  gave  you  my  permission,  and 
now  you  are  engaged  to  be  married  !  It  is  too 
extraordinary  to  be  believed.  That  was  not  the 
way  I  was  married.  There  was  more  formality 
in  those  days." 

Indeed,  she  could  not  imagine  the  deceased 
Granmichele  throwing  himself  upon  his  knees 
at  her  feet,  even  upon  the  softest  of  carpets. 

"  Then  I  thank  the  fates  that  those  days  are 
over  !  "  returned  San  Miniato. 

"  Perhaps  I  should,  too.  I  am  not  sure  that 
the  conclusion  would  have  been  so  satisfactory, 
if  I  had  undertaken  to  persuade  Beatrice.  She 
is  headstrong  and  capricious,  and  so  painfully 
energetic !  Every  discussion  with  her  shortens 
my  life  by  a  year." 


CHILDREN"    OF    THE    KING.  165 


"  She  is  an  angel  in  her  caprice,"  answered 
the  Count  with  conviction.  "  Indeed,  much  of 
her  charm  lies  in  her  changing  moods." 

"  If  she  is  an  angel,  what  am  I  ?  "  asked  the 
Marchesa.  "  Such  a  contrast !  " 

"She  is  the  angel  of  motion  —  you  are  the 
angel  of  repose." 

"  You  are  delightful  to-night." 

While  this  conversation  was  taking  place, 
Beatrice  had  wandered  away  over  the  rocks 
alone,  not  heeding  the  unevenness  of  the  stones 
and  taking  little  notice  of  the  direction  of  her 
walk.  She  only  knew  that  she  would  not  go 
back  to  the  place  where  she  had  sat,  not  for  all 
the  world.  A  change  had  taken  place  already 
and  she  was  angry  with  herself  for  what  she 
had  done  in  all  sincerity. 

She  was  hurt  and  her  first  illusion  had  suf 
fered  a  grave  shock  almost  at  the  moment  of  its 
birth.  She  asked  herself  how  it  could  be  possi 
ble,  if  San  Miniato  loved  her  as  he  had  said  he 
did,  that  he  should  not  feel  as  she  felt  and 
understand  love  as  she  did  —  as  something 
secret  and  sacred,  to  be  kept  from  other  eyes. 
Her  instinct  told  her  easily  enough  that  San 


166  CHILDREN    OF    THE    KING. 

Miniato  was  at  that  very  moment  telling  her 
mother  all  that  had  taken  place,  and  she  bit 
terly  resented  the  thought.  It  would  surely 
have  been  enough,  if  he  had  waited  until  the 
following  day  and  then  formally  asked  her  hand 
of  the  Marchesa.  It  would  have  been  better, 
more  natural  in  every  way,  just  now  when  they 
had  gone  up  to  the  table,  if  he  had  said  simply 
that  they  loved  one  another  and  had  asked  her 
mother's  blessing.  Anything  rather  than  to  feel 
that  he  was  coolly  -describing  the  details  of  the 
first  love  scene  in  her  life  —  the  thousandth, 
perhaps,  in  his  own. 

After  all,  did  she  love  him  ?  Did  he  really 
love  her  ?  His  passionate  manner  when  he  had 
seized  her  hand  had  moved  her  strangely,  and  she 
had  listened  with  a  sort  of  girlish  wonder  to  his 
declarations  of  devotion  afterwards.  But  now, 
in  the  calm  moonlight  and  quite  alone,  she  could 
hear  Ruggiero's  deep  strong  voice  in  her  ears, 
and  the  few  manly  words  he  had  uttered.  There 
was  not  much  in  them  in  the  way  of  eloquence 
—  a  sailor's  picturesque  phrase  —  she  had  heard 
something  like  it  before.  But  there  had  been 
strength,  and  the  power  to  do,  and  the  will  to 


CHILDREN    OF    THE    KING.  167 

act  in  every  intonation  of  his  speech.  She 
remembered  every  word  San  Miniato  had 
spoken,  far  better  than  he  would  remember  it 
himself  in  a  day  or  two,  and  she  was  ready  to 
analyse  and  criticise  now  what  had  charmed 
and  pleased  her  a  moment  earlier.  Why  was 
he  going  over  it  all  to  her  mother,  like  a  lesson 
learnt  and  repeated  ?  She  was  so  glad  to  be 
alone  —  she  would  have  been  so  glad  to  think 
alone  of  what  she  had  taken  for  the  most  de 
licious  moment  of  her  young  life.  If  he  were 
really  in  earnest,  he  would  feel  as  she  did  and 
would  have  said  at  once  that  it  was  late  and 
time  to  be  going  home  —  he  would  have  in 
vented  any  excuse  to  escape  the  interview 
which  her  mother  would  try  to  force  upon  him. 
Could  it  be  love  that  he  felt  ?  And  if  not,  as 
her  heart  told  her  it  was  not,  what  was  his 
object  in  playing  such  a  comedy  ?  She  knew 
well  enough,  from  Teresina,  that  many  a  young 
Neapolitan  nobleman  would  have  given  his  title 
for  her  fortune,  but  Teresina,  perhaps  for  rea 
sons  of  her  own,  never  dared  to  cast  such  an 
aspersion  upon  San  Miniato,  even  in  the  inti 
mate  conversation  which  sometimes  takes  place 


168  CHILDREN    OF    THE    KING. 

between  an  Italian  lady  and  her  maid  —  and, 
indeed,  if  the  truth  be  told,  between  maids  and 
their  mistresses  in  most  parts  of  the  world. 

Bnt  the  doubt  thrust  itself  forward  now. 
Beatrice  was  quick  to  doubt  at  all  times.  She 
was  also  capricious  and  changeable  about  mat 
ters  which  did  not  affect  her  deeply,  and  those 
that  did  were  few  enough.  It  was  certainly 
possible  that  San  Miniato,  after  all,  only  wanted 
her  money  and  that  her  mother  was  willing  to 
give  it  in  return  for  a  great  name  and  a  great 
position.  She  felt  that  if  the  case  had  been 
stated  to  her  from  the  first  in  its  true  light 
she  might  have  accepted  the  situation  without 
illusion,  but  without  disgust.  Everybody,  her 
mother  said,  was  married  by  arrangement,  some 
for  one  advantage,  some  for  the  sake  of  another. 
After  all,  San  Miniato  was  better  than  most  of 
the  rest.  There  was  a  certain  superiority  about 
him  which  she  would  like  to  see  in  her  husband, 
a  certain  simple  elegance,  a  certain  outward 
dignity,  which  pleased  her.  But  when  her 
mother  had  spoken  in  her  languid  way  of  the 
marriage,  Beatrice  had  resented  the  denial  of 
her  free  will,  and  had  answered  that  she  would 


CHILDREN    OF    THE    KING.  169 

please  herself  or  not  marry  at  all.  The  Mar- 
chesa,  far  too  lacking  in  energy  to  sustain  such 
a  contest,  had  contented  herself  with  her  fa 
vourite  expression  of  horror  at  her  daughter's 
unfilial  conduct.  Now,  however,  Beatrice  felt 
that  if  it  had  all  been  arranged  for  her,  she 
would  have  been  satisfied,  but  that  since  San 
Miniato  had  played  something  very  like  a  com 
edy,  she  would  refuse  to  be  duped  by  it.  She 
was  very  bitter  against  him  in  the  first  revulsion 
of  feeling  and  treated  him  more  hardly  in  her 
thoughts  than  he,  perhaps,  deserved. 

And  there  he  was,  up  there  by  the  table,  tell 
ing  her  mother  of  his  success.  Her  blood  rose 
in  her  cheeks  at  the  thought  and  she  stamped 
her  foot  upon  the  rock  out  of  sheer  anger  at 
herself,  at  him,  at  everything  and  everybody. 
Then  she  moved  on. 

Ruggiero  was  standing  at  the  edge  of  the 
water  looking  out  to  sea.  The  moonlight  sil 
vered  his  white  face  and  fair  beard  and  accentu 
ated  the  sharp  black  line  where  his  sailor's  cap 
crossed  his  forehead.  Wild  and  angry  emotions 
chased  each  other  from  his  heart  to  his  brain 
and  back  again,  firing  his  overwrought  nerves 


170  CHILDREN    OF    THE    KING. 

and  heated  blood,  as  the  flame  runs  along  a 
train  of  powder.  He  heard  a  light  step  behind 
him  and  turned  suddenly.  Beatrice  was  close 
upon  him. 

"Is  that  you,  Ruggiero,"  she  asked,  for  she 
had  seen  him  with  his  back  turned  and  had  not 
recognised  him  at  first. 

"Yes,  Excellency,"  he  answered  in  a  hoarse 
voice,  touching  his  cap. 

"  What  a  beautiful  night  it  is ! "  said  the 
young  girl.  She  often  talked  with  the  men  in 
the  boat,  and  Ruggiero  interested  her  especially 
at  the  present  moment. 

"  Yes,  Excellency,"  he  answered  again. 

"  Is  the  weather  to  be  fine,  Ruggiero  ?" 

"Yes,  Excellency." 

Ruggiero  was  apparently  not  in  the  conversa 
tional  mood.  He  was  probably  thinking  of  the 
girl  he  loved  —  in  all  likelihood  of  Teresina,  as 
Beatrice  thought.  She  stood  still  a  couple  of 
paces  from  him  and  looked  at  the  sea.  She  felt 
a  capricious  desire  to  make  the  big  sailor  talk 
and  tell  her  something  about  himself.  It  would 
be  sure  to  be  interesting  and  honest  and  strong, 
a  contrast,  as  she  fancied,  to  the  things  she  had 
just  heard. 


CHILDREN    OF    THE    KING.  171 

"  Ruggiero —  "  she  began,  and  then  she  stopped 
and  hesitated. 

"Yes,  Excellency." 

The  continual  repetition  of  the  two  words 
irritated  her.  She  tried  to  frame  a  question  to 
which  he  could  not  give  the  same  answer. 

"  I  would  like  you  to  tell  me  who  it  is  whom 
you  love  so  dearly  —  is  she  good  and  beautiful 
and  sensible,  too,  as  you  said  ?  " 

"  She  is  all  that,  Excellency."  His  voice 
shook,  not  as  it  seemed  to  her  with  weakness, 
but  with  strength. 

"  Tell  me  her  name." 

Ruggiero  was  silent  for  some  moments,  and 
his  head  was  bent  forward.  He  seemed  to  be 
breathing  hard  and  not  able  to  speak. 

"  Her  name  is  Beatrice,"  he  said  at  last,  in  a 
low,  firm  tone  as  though  he  were  making  a 
great  effort. 

"  Really  !  "  exclaimed  the  young  girl.  "  That 
is  my  name,  too.  I  suppose  that  is  why  you 
did  not  want  to  tell  me.  But  you  must  not  be 
afraid  of  me,  Ruggiero.  If  there  is  anything 
I  can  do  to  help  you,  I  will  do  it.  Is  it  money 
you  need  ?  I  will  give  you  some." 


172  CHILDREN    OF    THE    KING. 

"  It  is  not  money." 

"  What  is  it,  then  ?  " 

"  Love  —  and  a  miracle." 

His  answers  came  lower  and  lower,  and  he 
looked  at  the  ground,  suffering  as  he  had  never 
suffered  and  yet  indescribably  happy  in  speaking 
with  her,  and  in  seeing  the  interest  she  felt  in 
him.  But  his  brain  was  beginning  to  reel.  He 
did  not  know  what  he  might  say  next. 

"  Love  and  a  miracle  !  "  repeated  Beatrice  in 
her  silvery  voice.  "  Those  are  two  things  which 
I  cannot  get  for  you.  You  must  pray  to  the 
saints  for  the  one  and  to  her  for  the  other. 
Does  she  not  love  you  at  all  then  ?  " 

"  She  will  never  love  me.     I  know  it." 

"  And  that  would  be  the  miracle  —  if  she  ever 
should  ?  Such  miracles  have  been  done  by  men 
themselves  without  the  help  of  the  saints, 
before  now." 

Ruggiero  looked  up  sharply  and  he  felt  his 
hands  shaking.  He  thought  she  was  speaking  of 
what  had  just  happened,  of  which  he  had  been  a 
witness. 

"  Such  miracles  as  that  may  happen  —  but 
they  are  the  devil's  miracles." 


CHILDREN    OF    THE    KING.  173 

Beatrice  was  silent  for  a  moment.  She  was 
indeed  inclined  to  believe  in  a  special  interven 
tion  of  the  powers  of  evil  in  her  own  case.  Had 
she  not  been  suddenly  moved  to  tell  a  man  that 
she  loved  him,  only  to  discover  a  moment  later 
that  it  was  a  mistake  ? 

"  What  is  the  miracle  you  pray  for,  Ruggiero  ?  " 
she  asked  after  a  pause. 

"  To  be  changed  into  some  one  else,  Excel 
lency." 

"  And  then  —  would  she  love  you  ? " 

"  By  Our  Lady's  grace  —  perhaps  !  "  The 
deep  voice  shook  again.  He  set  his  teeth,  folded 
his  arms  over  his  throbbing  breast,  and  planted 
one  foot  firmly  on  a  stone  before  him,  as  though 
to  awrait  a  blow. 

"  I  am  very  sorry  for  you,  Ruggiero,"  said 
Beatrice  in  soft,  kind  tones. 

"  God  render  you  your  kindness  —  it  is  better 
than  nothing,"  he  answered. 

"  Is  she  sorry  for  you,  too  ?  She  should  be  — 
you  love  her  so  much." 

"  Yes  —  she  is  sorry  for  me.  She  has  just  said 
so."  He  raised  his  clenched  hand  to  his  mouth 
almost  before  the  words  were  uttered.  Beatrice 


174  CHILDKEN    OF    THE    KING. 

did  not  see  the  few  bright  red  drops  that  fell 
upon  the  rock  as  he  gnawed  the  flesh. 

"Just  said  so?"  she  said,  repeating  his 
words.  "I  do  not  understand?  Is  she  here 
to-night?" 

He  did  not  answer,  but  slowly  bent  his  head, 
as  though  in  assent.  An  odd  foreboding  of 
danger  shot  through  the  young  girl's  heart. 
Little  as  the  man  said,  he  seemed  desperate.  It 
was  possible  that  the  girl  he  loved  might  be  a 
Capriote,  and  that  he  might  have  met  her  and 
talked  with  her  while  the  dinner  was  going  on. 
He  might  have  strangled  her  with  those  great 
hands  of  his.  She  would  not  have  uttered  a  cry, 
and  no  one  would  be  the  wiser,  for  Tragara  is  a 
lonely  place,  by  day  and  night. 

"  She  is  here,  you  say  ?  "  Beatrice  asked  again. 
"  Where  is  she  ?  Euggiero,  what  is  the  matter? 
Have  you  done  her  any  harm  ?  Have  you  hurt 
her  ?  Have  you  killed  her  ? " 

"  Not  yet  —  " 

"  Not  yet !  "  Beatrice  cried,  in  a  low  horror- 
struck  tone.  She  had  heard  his  sharp,  agonised 
breathing  as  he  reeled  unsteadily  against  the  rock 
behind  him.  She  was  a  rarely  courageous  girl. 


CHILDREN    OF    THE    KING.  175 

Instead  of  shrinking  she  made  a  step  forward 
and  took  him  firmly  by  the  arm. 

"  What  have  you  done,  Ruggiero  ?  "  she  asked 
sternly. 

He  felt  that  she  was  accusing  him.  His  face 
grew  ashy  white,  and  grave  —  almost  grand,  she 
thought  afterwards,  for  she  remembered  long  the 
look  he  wore.  His  answer  came  slowly  in  deep, 
vibrating  tones. 

"  I  have  done  nothing —  but  love  her." 

"Show  her  to  me  —  take  me  to  her,"  said 
Beatrice,  still  dreading  some  horrible  deed,  she 
scarcely  knew  why. 

"  She  is  here." 

"  Where  ?  " 

"Here!— Ah,  Christ." 

His  great  hands  went  out  madly  as  though  to 
take  her,  then  tenderly  touched  the  loose  sleeves 
she  wore,  then  fell,  as  though  lifeless,  to  his  sides 
again. 

Beatrice  passed  her  hand  over  her  eyes  and 
drew  back  quickly  a  step.  She  was  startled  and 
angered,  but  not  frightened.  It  was  almost  the 
repetition  of  the  waking  dream  that  had  flitted 
through  her  brain  before  she  had  landed.  She 


176  CHILDREN    OF    THE    KING. 

had  heard  the  grand  ring  of  passionate  love  this 
once  at  least  —  and  how  ?  In  the  voice  of  a 
common  sailor  —  out  of  the  heart  of  an  ignorant 
fellow  who  could  neither  read  nor  write,  nor 
speak  his  own  language,  a  churl,  a  peasant's 
son,  a  labourer —  but  a  man,  at  least.  That  was 
it  —  a  strong,  honest,  fearless  man.  That  was 
why  it  all  moved  her  so  — •  that  was  why  it  was 
not  an  insult  that  this  low-born  fellow  should 
dare  to  tell  her  he  loved  her.  She  opened  her 
lids  again  and  saw  his  great  figure  leaning  back 
against  the  rock,  his  white  face  turned  upward, 
his  eyes  half  closed.  She  went  near  to  him 
again.  Instantly,  he  made  an  effort  and  stood 
upright.  Her  instinct  told  her  that  he  wanted 
neither  pity  nor  forgiveness  nor  comfort. 

"  You  are  a  brave,  strong  man,  Ruggiero ;  I 
will  always  pray  that  you  may  love  some  one 
who  will  love  you  again  —  since  you  can  love  so 
well." 

The  unspoiled  girl's  nature  had  found  the 
right  expression,  and  the  only  one.  Ruggiero 
looked  at  her  one  moment,  stooped  and  touched 
the  hem  of  her  white  frock  with  two  fingers  and 
then  pressed  them  silently  to  his  lips.  Who 


CHILDREN    OF    THE    KING.  177 

knows  from  what  far  age  that  outward  act  of 
submission  and  vassalage  has  been  handed  down 
in  southern  lands  ?  There  it  is  to  this  day, 
rarely  seen,  but  still  surviving  and  still  known 
to  all. 

Then  Ruggiero  turned  away  and  went  up  the 
sloping  rocks  again,  and  Beatrice  stood  still  for 
a  moment,  watching  his  tall,  retreating  figure. 
She  meant  to  go,  too,  but  she  lingered  a  while, 
knowing  that  if  ever  she  came  back  to  Tragara, 
this  would  be  the  spot  where  she  would  pause 
and  recall  a  memory,  and  not  that  other,  where 
she  had  sat  while  San  Miniato  played  out  his 
wretched  little  comedy. 

It  all  rushed  across  her  mind  again,  bringing 
a  new  sense  of  disgust  and  repulsion  with  it,  and 
a  new  blush  of  shame  and  anger  at  having  been 
so  deceived.  There  was  no  doubt  now.  The 
contrast  had  been  too  great,  too  wide,  too  evident. 
It  was  the  difference  between  truth  and  hearsay, 
as  San  Miniato  had  said  once  that  night.  There 
was  no  mistaking  the  one  for  the  other. 

Poor  Ruggiero  !  that  was  why  he  was  growing 
pale  and  thin.  That  was  why  his  arm  trembled 
when  he  helped  her  into  the  boat.  She  leaned 


178  CHILDREN    OF    THE    KING. 

against  the  rock  and  wondered  what  it  all  meant, 
whether  there  were  really  any  justice  in  heaven 
or  any  happiness  on  earth.  But  she  would  not 
marry  San  Miniato,  now,  for  she  had  given  no 
promise.  If  she  had  done  so,  she  would  not 
have  broken  it  —  in  that,  at  least,  she  was  like 
other  girls  of  her  age  and  class.  Next  to  evils 
of  which  she  knew  nothing,  the  breaking  of 
a  promise  of  marriage  was  the  greatest  and 
most  unpardonable  of  sins,  no  matter  what  the 
circumstances  might  be.  But  she  was  sure  that 
she  had  not  promised  anything. 

At  that  moment  in  her  meditations  she  heard 
the  tread  of  a  man's  heel  on  the  rocks.  The 
sailors  were  all  barefoot,  and  she  knew  it  must 
be  San  Miniato.  Unwilling  to  be  alone  with 
him  even  for  a  minute,  she  sprang  lightly 
forward  to  meet  him  as  he  carne.  He  held  out 
his  hand  to  help  her,  but  she  refused  it  by  a 
gesture  and  hurried  on. 

"I  have  been  speaking  with  your  mother,"  he 
said,  trying  to  take  advantage  of  the  thirty  or 
forty  yards  that  still  remained  to  be  traversed. 

"  So  I  suppose,  as  I  left  you  together,"  she 
answered  in  a  hard  voice.  "  I  have  been  talking 
to  Ruggiero." 


CHILDREN    OF    THE    KING.  179 

"Has  anything  displeased  you,  Beatrice?" 
asked  San  Miniato,  surprised  by  her  manner. 

"No.  Why  do  you  call  me  Beatrice?"  Her 
tone  was  colder  than  ever. 

"  I  suppose  I  might  be  permitted  —  " 

"  You  are  not." 

San  Miniato  looked  at  her  in  amazement,  but 
they  were  already  within  earshot  of  the  Marchesa, 
who  had  not  moved  from  her  long  chair,  and  he 
did  not  risk  anything  more,  not  knowing  what 
sort  of  answer  he  might  get.  But  he  was  no 
novice,  and  as  soon  as  he  thought  over  the  situ 
ation  he  remembered  others  similar  to  it  in  his 
experience,  and  he  understood  well  enough  that 
a  sensitive  young  girl  might  feel  ashamed  of 
having  shown  too  much  feeling,  or  might  have 
taken  offence  at  some  detail  in  his  conduct  which 
had  entirely  escaped  his  own  notice.  Young 
and  vivacious  women  are  peculiarly  subject  to 
this  sort  of  sensitiveness,  as  he  was  well  aware. 
There  was-  nothing  to  be  done  but  to  be  quiet, 
attentive  in  small  things,  and  to  wait  for  fair 
weather  again.  After  all,  he  had  crossed  the 
Rubicon,  and  had  been  very  well  received  on  the 
other  side.  It  would  not  be  easy  to  make  him 
go  back  again. 


180  CHILDREN    OF    THE    KING. 

"My  angel/'  said  the  Marchesa,  throwing 
away  the  end  of  her  cigarette, "  you  have  caught 
cold.  We  must  go  home  immediately." 

"  Yes,  mamma." 

With  all  her  languor  and  laziness  and  selfish 
ness,  the  Marchesa  was  not  devoid  of  tact,  least 
of  all  where  her  own  ends  were  concerned,  and 
when  she  took  the  trouble  to  have  any  object  in 
life  at  all.  She  saw  in  her  daughter's  face  that 
something  had  annoyed  her,  and  she  at  once 
determined  that  no  reference  should  be  made  to 
the  great  business  of  the  moment,  and  that  it 
would  be  best  to  end  the  evening  in  general 
conversation,  leaving  San  Miniato  no  further 
opportunity  of  being  alone  with  Beatrice.  She 
guessed  well  enough  that  the  girl  was  not  really 
in  love,  but  had  yielded  in  a  measure  to  the  man's 
practised  skill  in  love-making,  but  she  was  really 
anxious  that  the  result  should  be  permanent. 

Beatrice  was  grateful  to  her  for  putting  an  end 
to  the  situation.  The  young  girl  was  pale  and  her 
bright  eyes  had  suddenly  grown  tired  and  heavy. 
She  sat  down  beside  her  mother  and  shaded  her 
brow  against  the  lamp  with  her  hand,  while  San 
Miniato  went  to  give  orders  about  returning. 


CHILDREN    OF    THE    KING.  181 

"My  dear  child/'  said  the  Marchesa,  "I  am 
converted ;  it  has  been  a  delightful  excursion  ; 
we  have  had  an  excellent  dinner,  and  I  am  not 
at  all  tired.  I  am  sure  you  have  given  your 
self  quite  as  much  trouble  about  it  as  San 
Miniato." 

Beatrice  laughed  nervously. 

"  There  were  a  good  many  things  to  remem 
ber,"  she  said,  "  but  I  wish  there  had  been  twice 
as  many  —  it  was  so  amusing  to  make  out  the 
list  of  all  your  little  wants." 

"What  a  good  daughter  you  are  to  me,  my 
angel,"  sighed  the  Marchesa. 

It  was  not  often  that  she  showed  so  much 
affection.  Possibly  she  was  rarely  conscious  of 
loving  her  child  very  much,  and  on  the  present 
occasion  the  emotion  was  not  so  overpowering 
as  to  have  forced  her  to  the  expression  of  it, 
had  she  not  seen  the  necessity  for  humouring  the 
girl  and  restoring  her  normal  good  temper.  On 
the  whole,  a  very  good  understanding  existed 
between  the  two,  of  such  a  nature  that  it  would 
have  been  hard  to  destroy  it.  For  it  was  im 
possible  to  quarrel  with  the  Marchesa,  for  the 
simple  reason  that  she  never  attempted  to  oppose 


182  CHILDREN    OF    THE    KING. 

her  daughter,  and  rarely  tried  to  oppose  any  one 
else.  She  was  quite  insensible  to  Beatrice's 
occasional  reproaches  concerning  her  indolence, 
and  Beatrice  had  so  much  sense,  in  spite  of  her 
small  caprices  and  whims,  that  it  was  always 
safe  to  let  her  have  her  own  way.  The  conse 
quence  was  that  difficulties  rarely  arose  between 
the  two. 

Beatrice  smiled  carelessly  at  the  affectionate 
speech.  She  knew  its  exact  value,  but  was  not 
inclined  to  depreciate  it  in  her  own  estimation. 
Just  then  she  would  rather  have  been  left  alone 
with  her  mother  than  with  any  one  else,  unless 
she  could  be  left  quite  to  herself. 

"  You  are  always  very  good  to  me,  mamma," 
she  answered  ;  "  you  let  me  have  my  own  way, 
and  that  is  what  I  like  best." 

"  Let  you  have  it,  carissima  !  You  take  it. 
But  I  am  quite  satisfied." 

"After  all,  it  saves  you  trouble,"  laughed 
Beatrice. 

Just  then  San  Miniato  came  back  and  was 
greatly  relieved  to  see  that  Beatrice's  usual 
expression  had  returned,  and  to  hear  her  care 
less,  tuneful  laughter.  In  an  incredibly  short 


CHILDREN    OF    THE    KING.  183 

space  of  time  the  boat  was  ready,  the  Marchesa 
was  lifted  in  her  chair  and  carried  to  it,  and  all 
the  party  were  aboard.  The  second  boat,  with 
its  crew,  was  left  to  bring  home  the  parapher 
nalia,  and  Ruggiero  cast  off  the  mooring  and 
jumped  upon  the  stern,  as  the  men  forward 
dipped  their  oars  and  began  to  pull  out  of  the 
little  sheltered  bay. 

There  he  sat  again,  perched  in  his  old  place 
behind  his  master,  the  latter' s  head  close  to  his 
knee,  holding  the  brass  tiller  in  his  hand.  It 
would  be  hard  to  say  what  he  felt,  but  it  was 
not  what  he  had  felt  before.  It  was  all  a  dream, 
now,  the  past,  the  present  and  the  future.  He 
had  told  Beatrice — Donna  Beatrice  Granmichele, 
the  fine  lady  —  that  he  loved  her,  and  she  had 
not  laughed  in  his  face,  nor  insulted  him,  nor 
cried  out  for  help.  She  had  told  him  that  he  was 
brave  and  strong.  Yet  he  knew  that  he  had 
put  forth  all  his  strength  and  summoned  all  his 
courage  in  the  great  effort  to  be  silent,  and  had 
failed.  But  that  mattered  little.  He  had  got  a 
hundred,  a  thousand  times  more  kindness  than 
he  would  have  dared  to  hope  for,  if  he  had  ever 
dared  to  think  of  saying  what  he  had  really  said. 


184  CHILDREN    OF    THE    KING. 

He  had  been  forced  to  what  he  had  done,  as  a 
strong  man  is  forced  struggling  against  odds  to 
the  brink  of  a  precipice,  and  he  had  found  not 
death,  but  a  strange  new  strength  to  live.  He 
had  not  found  Heaven,  but  he  had  touched  the 
gates  of  Paradise  and  heard  the  sweet  clear 
voice  of  the  angel  within.  It  was  well  for  him 
that  his  hand  had  not  been  raised  that  afternoon 
to  deal  the  one  blow  that  would  have  decided 
his  life.  It  was  well  that  it  was  the  summer 
time  and  that  when  he  had  put  the  helm  down 
to  go  about  there  had  been  no  white  squall 
seething  along  with  its  wake  of  snowy  foam 
from  a  quarter  of  a  mile  to  windward.  It 
would  have  been  all  over  now  and  those  great 
moments  down  there  by  the  rocks  would  never 
have  been  lived. 

"Through  the  arch,  Ruggiero,"  said  San 
Miniato  to  him  as  the  boat  cleared  the  rocks  of 
the  landward  needle. 

"  Let  us  go  home,"  said  Beatrice,  with  a  little 
impatience  in  her  voice.  "I  am  so  tired." 

Would  she  be  tired  of  such  a  night  if  she 
loved  the  man  beside  her  ?  Ruggiero  thought 
not,  any  more  than  he  would  ever  be  weary  of 


CHILDREN    OF    THE    KING.  185 

being  near  her  to  steer  the  boat  that  bore  her  — 
even  for  ever. 

"  It  is  so  beautiful,"  said  San  Miniato. 

Beatrice  said  nothing,  but  made  an  impatient 
movement  that  betrayed  that  she  was  displeased. 

"  Home,  Ruggiero,"  said  San  Miniato's  voice. 

"Make  sail!"  Ruggiero  called  out,  he  him 
self  hauling  out  the  mizzen.  A  minute  later  the 
sails  filled  and  the  boat  sped  out  over  the  smooth 
water,  white-winged  as  a  sea-bird  under  the  great 
summer  moon. 


CHAPTER   VIII. 

IT  was  late  on  the  following  morning  when 
the  Marchesa  came  out  upon  her  curtained  ter 
race,  moving  slowly,  her  hands  hanging  listlessly 
down,  her  eyes  half  closed,  as  though  regretting 
the  sleep  she  might  be  still  enjoying.  Beatrice 
was  sitting  by  a  table,  an  open  book  beside  her 
which  she  was  not  reading,  and  she  hardly  no 
ticed  her  mother's  light  step.  The  young  girl 
had  spent  a  sleepless  night,  and  for  the  first 
time  since  she  had  been  a  child  a  few  tears 
had  wet  her  pillow.  She  could  not  have  told 
exactly  why  she  had  cried,  for  she  had  not  felt 
anything  like  sadness,  and  tears  were  altogether 
foreign  to  her  nature.  But  the  unsought  return 
of  all  the  impressions  of  the  evening  had  affected 
her  strangely,  and  she  felt  all  at  once  shame, 
anger  and  regret  —  shame  at  having  been  so 
easily  deceived  by  the  play  of  a  man's  face  and 
voice,  anger  against  him  for  the  part  he  had 
acted,  and  regret  for  something  unknown  but 

186 


CHILDREN    OF    THE    KING.  187 

dreamt  of  and  almost  understood,  and  which 
could  never  be.  She  was  too  young  and  girlish 
to  understand  that  her  eyes  had  been  opened' 
upon  the  workings  of  the  human  heart.  She 
had  seen  two  sights  which  neither  man  nor 
woman  can  ever  forget,  love  and  love's  coun 
terfeit  presentment,  and  both  were  stamped 
indelibly  upon  the  unspotted  page  of  her 
maiden  memory. 

She  had  seen  a  man  whom  she  had  hitherto 
liked,  and  whom  she  had  unconsciously  respected 
for  a  certain  dignity  he  seemed  to  have,  degrade 
himself  —  and  for  money's  sake,  as  she  rightly 
judged  —  to  the  playing  of  a  pitiful  comedy.  As 
the  whole  scene  came  back  to  her  in  all  distinct 
ness,  she  traced  the  deception  from  first  to  last 
with  amazing  certainty  of  comprehension,  and 
she  knew  that  San  Miniato  had  wilfully  and 
intentionally  laid  a  plot  to  work  upon  her  feel 
ings  and  to  produce  the  result  he  had  obtained 
—  a  poor  result  enough,  if  he  had  known  the 
whole  truth,  yet  one  of  which  Beatrice  was 
sorely  ashamed.  She  had  been  deceived  into 
the  expression  of  something  which  she  had  never 
felt  —  and  which,  this  morning,  seemed  further 


188  CHILDREN    OF    THE    KING. 

from  her  than  ever  before.  It  was  bitter  to 
think  that  any  man  could  say  she  had  uttered 
those  three  words  "  Hove  you,"  when  there  was 
less  truth  in  them  than  in  the  commonest,  most 
pardonable  social  lie.  He  had  planned  the  excur 
sion,  knowing  how  beautiful  things  in  nature 
affected  her,  knowing  exactly  at  what  point  the 
moon  would  rise,  precisely  at  what  hour  that 
mysterious  light  would  gleam  upon  the  water, 
knowing  the  magic  of  the  place  and  counting 
upon  it  to  supplement  his  acting  where  it  lacked 
reality.  It  had  been  clever  of  him  to  think  it 
out  so  carefully,  to  plan  each  detail  so  thought 
fully,  to  behave  so  naturally  until  his  oppor 
tunity  was  all  prepared  and  ready  for  him.  But 
for  one  little  mistake,  one  moment's  forgetful- 
ness  of  tact,  the  impression  might  have  remained 
and  grown  in  distinctness  until  it  would  have 
secured  the  imprint  of  a  strong  reality  at  the 
beginning  of  a  new  volume  in  her  life,  to  which 
she  could  always  look  back  in  the  hereafter  as 
to  something  true  and  sweet  to  be  thought  of. 
But  his  tact  had  failed  him  at  the  critical  and 
supreme  moment  when  he  had  got  what  he 
wanted  and  had  not  known  how  to  keep  it,  even 


CHILDKEN"    OF    THE    KING.  189 

for  an  hour.  And  his  mistake  had  been  followed 
by  a  strange  accident  which  had  revealed  to 
Beatrice  the  very  core  of  a  poor  human  heart 
that  was  beating  itself  to  death,  in  true  earnest, 
for  her  sake. 

She  had  seen  what  many  a  woman  longs  for 
but  may  never  look  upon.  She  had  seen  a  man, 
brave,  strong,  simple  and  true,  with  the  death 
mark  of  his  love  for  her  upon  his  face.  What 
matter  if  he  were  but  an  unlettered  sailor, 
scarcely  knowing  what  moved  him  nor  the 
words  he  spoke  ?  Beatrice  was  a  woman  and, 
womanlike,  she  knew  without  proof  or  testimony 
that  his  heart  and  hands  were  clean  of  the  few 
sins  which  woman  really  despises  in  man. 

They  are  not  many  —  be  it  said  in  honour  of 
womanly  generosity  and  kindness  —  they  are 
not  many,  those  bad  deeds  which  a  woman  can 
not  forgive,  and  that  she  is  right  is  truly  shown 
in  that  those  are  the  sins  which  the  most  manly 
men  despise  in  others.  They  are,  I  think,  cow 
ardice,  lying  for  selfish  ends,  betraying  tales  of 
woman's  weakness  —  almost  the  greatest  of 
crimes  —  and,  greatest  of  all,  faithlessness  in 
love. 


190  CHILDREN    OF    THE    KING. 

Let  a  man  be  brave,  honest,  discreet,  faithful, 
and  a  woman  will  forgive  him  all  manner  of 
evil  actions,  even  to  murder  and  bloodshed ;  but 
let  him  flinch  in  danger,  lie  to  save  himself,  tell 
the  name  of  a  woman  whose  love  for  him  has 
betrayed  her,  or  break  his  faith  to  her  without 
boldly  saying  that  he  loves  her  no  more,  and 
she  will  not  forgive  him  while  he  lives,  though 
she  may  give  him  a  kindly  thought  and  a  few 
tears  when  he  is  gone  for  ever. 

So  Beatrice,  who  could  never  love  Ruggiero, 
understood  him  well  and  judged  him  rightly, 
and  set  him  up  on  a  sort  of  pedestal  as  the 
.anti-type  of  his  scheming  master.  And  not 
only  this.  She  felt  deeply  for  him  and  pitied 
him  with  all  her  heart,  since  she  had  seen  his 
own  almost  breaking  before  her  eyes  for  her 
sake.  She  had  always  been  kind  to  him,  but 
henceforth  there  would  be  something  even 
kinder  in  her  voice  when  she  spoke  to  him,  as 
there  would  be  something  harder  in  her  tone 
when  she  talked  with  San  Miniato. 

And  now  her  mother  had  appeared  and  set 
tled  herself  in  her  lazy  way  upon  her  long 
chair,  and  slowly  moved  her  fan,  from  habit, 


CHILDREN    OF    THE    KING.  191 

though  too  indolent  to  lift  it  to  her  face.  Bea 
trice  rose  and  kissed  her  lightly  on  the  fore 
head. 

"  Good  morning,  mamma  carissirna,"  she  said. 
"Are  you  very  tired  after  the  excursion  ?" 

"Exhausted,  in  mind  and  body,  my  angel. 
A  cigarette,  my  dear  —  it  will  give  me  an 
appetite." 

Beatrice  brought  her  one,  and  held  a  match 
for  her  mother.  Then  the  Marchesa  shut  her 
eyes,  inhaled  the  smoke  and  blew  out  four  or 
five  puffs  before  speaking  again. 

"  I  want  to  speak  to  you,  rny  child,"  she  said 
at  last,  "  but  I  hardly  have  the  strength." 

"  Do  not  tire  yourself,  mamma.  I  know 
what  you  are  going  to  say,  and  I  have  made 
up  my  mind." 

"Have  you?  That  will  save  me  infinite 
trouble.  I  am  so  glad." 

"  Are  you  really  ?  Do  you  know  what  I 
mean  ?  " 

"Of  course.  You  are  going  to  marry  San 
Miniato,  and  we  have  the  best  excuse  in  the 
world  for  going  to  Paris  to  see  about  your 
trousseau." 


192  CHILDREN    OF    THE    KING. 

"  I  will  not  marry  San  Miniato,"  said  Bea 
trice.  "  I  have  made  up  my  mind  that  I  will 
not." 

The  Marchesa  started  slightly  as  she  took  her 
cigarette  from  her  lips,  and  turned  her  head 
slowly  so  that  she  could  look  into  Beatrice's 
eyes. 

"  You  are  engaged  to  marry  him/'  she  said 
slowly.  "  You  cannot  break  your  word.  You 
know  what  that  means.  Indeed,  you  are  quite 
mad ! " 

"  Engaged  ?  I  ?  I  never  gave  my  word  !  It 
is  not  true  ! "  The  blood  rose  in  Beatrice's  face 
and  then  sank  suddenly  away. 

"  What  is  this  comedy  ? "  asked  the  Marchesa, 
raising  her  brows.  For  the  first  time  in  many 
years  she  was  almost  angry. 

"Ah!  If  you  ask  me  that,  I  will  tell  you. 
I  will  tell  you  everything  and  you  know  that  I 
speak  the  truth  to  you  as  I  do  to  everybody  —  " 

"  Except  to  San  Miniato  when  you  tell  him 
you  love  him,"  interrupted  the  Marchesa. 

Beatrice  blushed  again,  with  anger  this  time. 

"Yes,"  she  said,  after  a  short  pause,  "  it  is 
quite  true  that  I  said  I  loved  him,  and  for  one 


CHILDREN    OF    THE    KIXG.  193 

moment  I  meant  it.  But  I  made  a  mistake. 
I  am  sorry,  and  I  will  tell  him  so.  But  I  will 
tell  him  other  things,  too.  I  will  tell  him  that 
I  saw  through  his  acting  before  we  left  Tragara 
last  night,  and  that  I  will  never  forgive  him 
for  the  part  he  played.  You  know  as  well  as  I 
that  it  was  all  a  play,  from  beginning  to  end. 
I  liked  him  better  than  the  others  because  I 
thought  him  more  manly,  more  honest,  more 
dignified.  But  I  have  changed  my  mind.  I 
see  the  whole  truth  now,  every  detail  of  it. 
He  planned  it  all,  and  he  did  it  very  well  — 
probably  he  planned  it  the  night  before  last,  out 
here  with  you,  while  I  was  playing  waltzes. 
You  could  not  make  me  marry  him,  and  he  got 
leave  of  you  to  speak  to  me.  Do  you  think  I 
do  not  understand  it  all  ?  Would  you  have  let 
me  go  away  last  night  and  sit  with  him  on  the 
rocks,  out  of  your  hearing,  without  so  much  as 
a  remark,  unless  you  had  arranged  the  matter 
between  you  ?  It  is  not  like  you,  and  I  know 
you  meant  it.  It  was  all  a  plot.  He  had  even 
been  there  to  study  the  place,  to  see  the  very 
point  at  which  the  moon  would  rise,  the  very 
place  where  he  would  make  me  sit,  the  very  spot 


194  CHILDREN    OF    THE    KING. 

where  your  table  could  stand.  He  said  to  him 
self  that  I  was  a  mere  girl,  that  of  course  no 
man  had  ever  made  love  to  me  and  that  between 
the  beauty  of  the  night,  my  liking  for  him. 
and  his  well  arranged  comedy,  he  might  easily 
move  me.  He  did.  I  am  ashamed  of  it.  Look 
at  the  blood  in  my  cheeks  !  That  tells  the  truth, 
at  all  events.  I  am  utterly  ashamed.  I  would 
give  my  right  hand  to  have  not  spoken  those 
words !  I  would  almost  give  my  life  to  undo 
yesterday  if  it  could  be  undone  —  and  undo  it  I 
will,  so  far  as  I  can.  I  will  tell  San  Miniato 
what  I  think  of  myself,  and  then  I  will  tell  him 
what  I  think  of  him,  and  that  will  be  enough. 
Do  you  understand  me  ?  I  am  in  earnest." 

The  Marchesa  had  listened  to  Beatrice's  long 
speech  with  open  eyes,  surprised  at  the  girl's 
keenness  and  at  her  determined  manner.  Not 
that  the  latter  was  new  in  her  experience,  but  it 
was  the  first  time  that  their  two  wills  had  been 
directly  opposed  in  a  matter  of  great  importance. 
The  Marchesa  was  a  very  indolent  person,  but 
somewhere  in  her  nature  there  lay  hidden  a 
small  store  of  determination  which  had  hardly 
ever  expressed  itself  clearly  in  her  life.  Now, 


CHILDREN    OF    THE    KING.  195 

however,  she  felt  that  much  was  at  stake.  For 
many  reasons  San  Miniato  was  precisely  the  son- 
in-law  she  desired.  He  would  give  Beatrice  an 
ancient  and  honourable  name,  a  leading  position 
in  any  Italian  society  he  chose  to  frequent, 
whether  in  the  north  or  the  south,  and  he  was  a 
man  of  the  world  at  all  points.  The  last  con 
sideration  had  much  weight  with  the  Marchesa 
who,  in  spite  of  her  title  and  fortune  had  seen 
very  little  of  the  men  of  the  great  world,  and 
admired  them  accordingly.  Therefore  when 
Beatrice  said  she  would  not  marry  him,  her 
mother  made  up  her  mind  that  she  should,  and 
the  struggle  commenced. 

"  Beatrice,  my  angel,"  she  began,  "  you  are 
mistaken  in  yourself  and  in  San  Miniato.  I  am 
quite  unable  to  go  through  all  the  details  as  you 
have  done.  I  only  say  that  you  are  mistaken." 

Beatrice's  lip  curled  a  little  and  she  slowly 
shook  her  head. 

"I  am  not  mistaken,  mamma,"  she  answered. 
"I  am  quite  right,  and  you  know  it.  Can  you 
deny  that  what  I  say  is  true  ?  Can  you  say  that 
you  did  not  arrange  with  him  to  take  me  to 
Tragara,  and  to  let  him  speak  to  me  himself  ?  " 


196  CHILDREN    OF    THE    KING. 

"  It  is  far  too  much  trouble  to  deny  anything, 
my  dear  child.  But  all  that  may  be  quite  true, 
and  yet  he  may  love  you  as  sincerely  as  he  can 
love  any  one.  I  do  not  suppose  you  expect  a 
man  of  his  sense  and  education  to  roll  himself  at 
your  feet  and  tear  his  hair  and  his  clothes  as 
they  do  on  the  stage." 

"  A  man  need  not  do  that  to  show  that  he  is  in 
earnest,  and  besides  he  —  " 

"That  is  not  the  question,"  interrupted  the 
Marchesa.  "  The  real  question  concerns  you 
much  more  than  it  affects  him.  If  you  break 
your  promise  —  " 

"  There  was  no  promise." 

"  You  told  him  that  you  loved  him,  and  you 
admit  it.  Under  the  circumstances  that  meant 
that  you  were  willing  to  marry  him.  It  meant 
nothing  else,  as  you  know  very  well." 

"  I  never  thought  of  it." 

"  You  must  think  of  it  now.  You  know 
perfectly  well  that  he  wished  to  marry  you  and 
had  my  consent.  I  have  spoken  to  you  several 
times  about  it  and  you  refused  to  have  him, 
saying  that  you  meant  to  exercise  your  own  free 
will.  You  had  an  opportunity  of  exercising  it 


CHILDREN    OF    THE    KING.  197 

last  night.  You  told  him  clearly  that  you  loved 
him,  and  that  could  only  mean  that  your  oppo 
sition  was  gone  and  that  you  would  marry  him. 
You  know  what  you  will  be  called  now,  if  you 
refuse  to  keep  your  engagement." 

Beatrice  grew  slowly  pale.  Her  mother  had, 
for  once,  a  remarkably  direct  and  clear  way  of 
putting  the  matter,  and  the  young  girl  began  to 
waver.  If  her  mother  succeeded  in  proving  to 
her  that  she  had  really  bound  herself,  she  would 
submit.  It  is  not  easy  to  convey  to  the  foreign 
mind  generally  the  enormous  importance  which 
is  attached  in  Italy  to  a  distinct  promise  of 
marriage.  It  indeed  almost  amounts,  morally 
speaking,  to  marriage  itself,  and  the  breaking 
of  it  is  looked  upon  socially  almost  as  an  act  of 
infidelity  to  the  marriage  bond.  A  young  girl 
who  refuses  to  keep  her  engagement  is  called  a 
civetta  —  an  owlet  —  probably  because  owlets 
are  used  as  a  decoy  all  over  the  country  in 
snaring  and  shooting  all  small  birds.  Be  that 
as  it  may,  the  term  is  a  bitter  reproach,  it  sticks 
to  her  who  has  earned  it  and  often  ruins  her 
whole  -life.  That  is  what  the  Marchesa  meant 
when  she  told  Beatrice  that  she  knew  what 


198  CHILDREN    OF    THE    KING. 

the  world  would  call  her,  and  the  threat  had 
weight. 

The  young  girl  rose  from  her  seat  and  began 
to  walk  to  and  fro  on  the  terrace,  her  head  bent, 
her  hands  clasped  together.  The  Marchesa 
slowly  puffed  at  her  cigarette  and  wratched  her 
daughter  with  half-closed  eyes. 

"  I  never  meant  it  so !  "  Beatrice  exclaimed 
in  low  tones,  and  she  repeated  the  words  again 
and  again,  pausing  now  and  then  and  looking 
fixedly  at  her  mother. 

"  Dear  child,"  said  the  Marchesa,  "what  does 
it  matter  ?  If  it  were  not  such  an  exertion  to 
talk,  I  am  sure  I  could  make  you  see  what  a 
good  match  it  is,  and  how  glad  you  ought  to  be." 

"  Glad !  Oh,  mamma,  you  do  not  under 
stand  !  The  degradation  of  it!  " 

"  The  degradation  ?  Where  is  there  anything 
degrading  in  it  ?  " 

"  I  see  it  well  enough !  To  give  myself  up 
body  and  soul  to  a  man  I  do  not  love  !  And  for 
what  ?  Because  he  has  an  old  name,  and  I  a 
new  one,  and  I  can  buy  his  name  with  my 
money.  Oh,  mother,  it  is  too  horrible !  Too 
low  !  Too  vile  !  " 


CHILDREN    OF    THE    KING.  199 

"  My  angel,  you  do  not  know  what  strong 
words  you  are  using — " 

"  They  are  not  half  strong  enough  —  I  wish  I 
could —  " 

But  she  stopped  and  began  to  walk  up  and 
down  again,  her  sweet  young  face  pale  and 
weary  with  pain,  her  fingers  twisting  each  other 
nervously.  A  long  silence  followed. 

"  It  is  of  no  use  to  talk  about  it,  my  child," 
said  the  Marchesa,  languidly  taking  up  a  novel 
from  the  table  beside  her.  "  The  thing  is  done. 
You  are  engaged,  and  you  must  either  marry  San 
Miniato  or  take  the  consequences,  and  be  pointed 
at  as  a  faithless  girl  for  the  rest  of  your  life." 

"  And  who  knows  of  this  engagement,  if  it  is 
one,  but  you  and  I  and  he  ? "  asked  Beatrice, 
standing  still.  "  Would  you  tell,  or  I  ?  Or 
would  he  dare  ?  " 

"  He  would  be  perfectly  justified,"  answered 
the  Marchesa.  "  He  is  a  gentleman,  however, 
and  would  be  considerate.  But  who  is  to  assure 
us  that  he  has  not  already  telegraphed  the  good 
news  to  his  friends  ?  " 

"  It  is  too  awful !  "  cried  Beatrice,  leaning 
back  against  one  of  the  pillars. 


200  CHILDREN    OF    THE    KING. 

"  Besides/'  said  her  mother  without  changing 
her  tone.  "  You  have  changed  to-day,  you  may 
change  again  to-morrow  —  " 

"  Stop,  for  heaven's  sake  !  Do  not  make  me 
worse  than  I  am  !  " 

Poor  Beatrice  stopped  her  ears  with  her  open 
hands.  The  Marchesa  looked  at  her  and  smiled 
a  little,  and  shook  her  head,  waiting  for  the 
hands  to  be  removed.  At  last  the  young  girl 
began  her  walk  again. 

"  You  should  not  talk  about  being  worse  when 
you  are  not  bad  at  all,  my  dear,"  said  her 
mother.  "  You  have  done  nothing  to  be  ashamed 
of,  and  all  this  is  perfectly  absurd.  You  feel  a 
passing  dislike  for  the  idea  perhaps,  but  that  will 
be  gone  to-morrow.  Meanwhile  the  one  thing 
which  is  really  sure  is  that  you  are  engaged  to 
San  Miniato,  who,  as  I  say,  has  undoubtedly  tele 
graphed  the  fact  to  his  sister  in  Florence  and 
probably  to  two  or  three  old  friends.  By  to 
morrow  it  will  be  in  the  newspapers.  You  can 
not  possibly  draw  back.  I  have  really  talked 
enough.  I  am  utterly  exhausted." 

Beatrice  sank  into  a  chair  and  pressed  her 
fingers  upon  her  eyes,  not  to  hide  them,  but  by 


CHILDREN    OF    THE    KING.  201 

sheer  pressure  forcing  back  the  tears  she  felt 
coming.  Her  beautiful  young  figure  bent  and 
trembled  like  a  willow  in  the  wind,  and  the  soft 
white  throat  swelled  with  the  choking  sob  she 
kept  down  so  bravely.  There  is  something  half 
divine  in  the  grief  of  some  women. 

"  Dear  child/'  said  her  mother  very  gently, 
" there  is  nothing  to  cry  over.  Beatrice  carissima, 
try  and  control  yourself.  It  will  soon  pass  —  " 

"It  will  soon  pass  —  yes,"  answered  the  young 
girl,  bringing  out  the  words  with  a  great  effort. 
During  fully  two  minutes  more  she  pressed  her 
eyes  with  all  her  might.  Then  she  rose  sud 
denly  to  her  feet,  and  her  face  was  almost  calm 
again. 

"  I  will  marry  him,  since  what  I  never  meant 
for  a  promise  really  is  one  and  has  seemed  so  to 
you  and  to  him.  But  if  I  am  a  faithless  wife 
to  him,  I  will  lay  all  my  sins  at  your  door." 

"  Beatrice  !  "  cried  the  Marchesa,  in  real  horror 
this  time.  She  crossed  herself. 

"  I  am  young  —  shall  I  not  love  ?  "  asked  the 
young  girl  defiantly. 

"  Dearest  child,  for  the  love  of  Heaven  do  not 
talk  so  —  " 


202  CHILDREN    OF    THE    KING. 

«No  —  I  will  not.  I  will  never  say  it  again 
—  and  you  will  not  forget  it." 

She  turned  to  leave  the  terrace  and  met  San 
Miniato  face  to  face. 

"Good  morning,"  she  said  coldly,  and  passed 
him. 

"Of  course  you  have  telegraphed  the  news 
of  the  engagement  to  your  sister?"  said  the 
Marchesa  as  soon  as  she  saw  him,  and  making 
a  sign  to  intimate  that  he  must  answer  in  the 
affirmative. 

"  Of  course  —  and  to  all  my  best  friends,"  he 
replied  promptly  with  a  ready  smile.  Beatrice 
heard  his  answer  just  as  she  passed  through 
the  door,  but  she  did  not  turn  her  head.  She 
guessed  that  her  mother  had  asked  the  question 
in  haste  in  order  that  San  Miniato  might  say 
something  which  should  definitely  prove  to 
/  Beatrice  that  he  considered  himself  betrothed. 
Yesterday  she  would  have  believed  his  answer. 
To-day  she  believed  nothing  he  said.  She  went 
to  her  room  and  bathed  her  eyes  in  cold  water 
and  sat  down  for  a  moment  before  her  glass  and 
looked  at  herself  thoughtfully.  There  she  was, 
the  same  Beatrice  she  saw  in  the  mirror  every 


CHILDREN    OF    THE    KING.  203 

day,  the  same  clear  brown  eyes,  the  same  soft 
brown  hair,  the  same  broad,  crayon-like  eye 
brows,  the  same  free  pose  of  the  head.  But 
there  was  something  different  in  the  face,  which 
she  did  not  recognise.  There  was  something 
defiant  in  the  eyes,  and  hard  about  the  mouth, 
which  was  new  to  her  and  did  not  altogether 
please  her,  though  she  could  not  change  it.  She 
combed  the  little  ringlets  on  her  forehead  and 
dabbed  a  little  scent  upon  her  temples  to  cool 
them,  and  then  she  rose  quickly  and  went  out. 
A  thought  had  struck  her  and  she  at  once  put 
into  execution  the  plan  it  suggested. 

She  took  a  parasol  and  went  out  of  the  hotel, 
hatless  and  gloveless,  into  the  garden  of  orange 
trees  which  lies  between  the  buildings  and  the 
gate.  She  strolled  leisurely  along  the  path 
towards  the  exit,  on  one  side  of  which  is  the 
porter's  lodge,  while  the  little  square  stone  box 
of  a  building  which  is  the  telegraph  office  stands 
on  the  other.  She  knew  that  just  before  twelve 
o'clock  Ruggiero  and  his  brother  were  generally 
seated  on  the  bench  before  the  lodge  waiting  for 
orders  for  the  afternoon.  As  she  expected,  she 
found  them,  and  she  beckoned  to  Ruggiero  and 


204  CHILDREN    OF    THE    KING. 

turned  back  under  the  trees.  In  an  instant  he 
was  at  her  side.  She  was  startled  to  see  how 
pale  he  was  and  how  suddenly  his  face  seemed 
to  have  grown  thin.  She  stopped  and  he  stood 
respectfully  before  her,  cap  in  hand,  looking 
down. 

"  Ruggiero,"  she  said,  "  will  you  do  me  a 
service  ?  " 

"  Yes,  Excellency." 

"Yes,  I  know  —  but  it  is  something  especial. 
You  must  tell  no  one  —  not  even  your  brother." 

"Speak,  Excellency  —  not  even  the  stones 
shall  hear  it." 

"  I  want  you  to  find  out  at  the  telegraph  office 
whether  your  master  has  sent  a  telegram  any 
where  this  morning.  Can  you  ask  the  man  and 
bring  me  word  here  ?  I  will  walk  about  under 
the  trees." 

"  At  once.  Excellency." 

He  turned  and  left  her,  and  she  strolled  up 
the  path.  She  wondered  a  little  why  she  was 
doing  this  underhand  thing.  It  was  not  like 
her,  and  whatever  answer  Ruggiero  brought  her 
she  would  gain  nothing  by  it.  If  San  Miniato 
had  spoken  the  truth,  then  he  had  really  be- 


CHILDREN    OF    THE    KING.  205 

lieved  the  engagement  already  binding,  as  her 
mother  had  said.  If  he  had  lied,  that  would 
not  prevent  his  really  telegraphing  within  the 
next  half  hour,  and  matters  would  be  in  just 
the  same  situation  with  a  slight  difference  of 
time.  She  would,  indeed,  in  this  latter  case, 
have  a  fresh  proof  of  his  duplicity.  But  she 
needed  none,  as  it  seemed  to  her.  It  was 
enough  that  he  should  have  acted  his  comedy 
last  night  and  got  by  a  stratagem  what  he  could 
never  have  by  any  other  means.  Ruggiero  re 
turned  after  two  or  three  minutes. 

"  Well  ?  "  inquired  Beatrice. 

"  He  sent  one  at  nine  o'clock  this  morning, 
Excellency." 

For  one  minute  their  eyes  met.  Ruggiero's 
were  fierce,  bright  and  clear.  Beatrice's  own 
softened  almost  imperceptibly  under  his  glance. 
If  she  had  seen  herself  at  that  moment  she 
would  have  noticed  that  the  hard  look  she  had 
observed  in  her  own  face  had  momentarily 
vanished,  and  that  she  was  her  gentle  self  again. 

"  One  only  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  Only  one,  Excellency.  No  one  will  know 
that  I  have  asked,  for  the  man  will  not  tell." 


206  CHILDREN    OF    THE    KING. 

"  Are  you  sure  ?  What  did  you  say  to  him  ? 
Tell  me." 

"  I  said  to  him,  '  Don  Gennaro,  I  am  the  Conte 
di  San  Miniato's  sailor.  Has  the  Conte  sent  any 
telegram  this  morning,  to  any  one,  anywhere  ?  ' 
Then  he  shook  his  head ;  but  he  looked  into  his 
book  and  said,  'He  sent  one  to  Florence  at  nine 
o'clock.'  Then  I  said,  '  I  thank  you,  Don 
Gennaro,  and  I  will  do  you  a  service  when  I 
can.'  That  was  for  good  manners.  Then  I 
said,  '  Don  Gennaro,  please  not  to  tell  any  one 
that  I  asked  the  question,  and  if  you  tell  any 
one  I  will  make  you  die  an  evil  death,  for  I 
will  break  all  your  bones  and  moreover  drown 
you  in  the  sea,  and  go  to  the  galleys  very 
gladly.'  Then  Don  Gennaro  said  that  he  would 
not  tell.  And  here  I  am,  Excellency." 

In  spite  of  all  she  was  suffering,  Beatrice 
laughed  at  Ruggiero's  account  of  the  interview. 
It  was  quite  evident  that  Ruggiero  had  repeated 
accurately  every  word  that  had  been  spoken, 
and  he  looked  the  man  to  execute  the  threat 
without  the  slightest  hesitation.  Beatrice  won 
dered  how  the  telegraph  official  had  taken  it. 

"  What  did  Don  Gennaro  do  when  you  fright 
ened  him,  Ruggiero  ?"  she  asked. 


CHILDREN    OF    THE    KING.  207 

"  He  said  he  would  not  tell  and  got  a  little 
white,,  Excellency.  But  he  will  say  nothing, 
and  will  not  complain  to  the  syndic,  because  he 
knows  my  brother." 

"What  has  that  to  do  with  it?"  asked  Bea 
trice  with  some  curiosity. 

"  It  is  natural.  Excellency.  For  if  Don 
Gennaro  went  to  the  syndic  and  said,  '  Signer 
Sindaco,  Ruggiero  of  the  Children  of  the  King 
has  threatened  to  kill  me/  then  the  syndic 
would  send  for  the  gendarmes  and  say,  '  Take 
that  Ruggiero  of  the  Children  of  the  King  and 
put  him  in,  as  we  say,  and  see  that  he  does  not 
run  away,  for  he  will  do  a  hurt  to  somebody.' 
And  perhaps  they  would  catch  me  and  perhaps 
they  would  not.  Then  Bastianello,  my  brother, 
would  wait  in  the  road  in  the  evening  for  Don 
Gennaro,  and  would  lay  a  hand  on  him,  perhaps, 
or  both.  And  I  think  that  Don  Gennaro  would 
rather  be  dead  in  his  telegraph  office  than  alive 
in  Bastianello's  hands,  because  Bastianello  is 
very  strong  in  his  hands,  Excellency.  And  that 
is  all  the  truth." 

"But  I  do  not  understand  it  all,  Ruggiero, 
though  I  see  what  you  mean.  I  am  afraid  it 
is  your  language  that  is  different  from  mine." 


208  CHILDREN    OF    THE    KING. 

"It  is  natural.  Excellency/'  answered  the 
sailor,  a  deep  blush  spreading  over  his  white 
forehead  as  he  stood  bareheaded  before  her. 
"  You  are  a  great  lady  and  I  am  only  an 
ignorant  seaman." 

"  I  do  not  mean  anything  of  the  sort,  Rug- 
giero,"  said  Beatrice  quickly,  for  she  saw  that 
she  had  unintentionally  hurt  him,  and  the 
thought  pained  her  strongly.  "  You  speak 
very  well  and  I  have  always  understood  you 
perfectly.  But  you  spoke  of  the  King's  Chil 
dren  and  I  could  not  make  out  what  they  had 
to  do  with  the  story." 

"Oh,  if  it  is  that,  Excellency,  I  ask  your 
pardon.  I  do  not  wonder  that  you  did  not 
understand.  It  is  my  name,  Excellency." 

"  Your  name  ?      Still  I  do  not  understand  —  " 

"  I  have  no  other  name  but  that  —  dei  figli 
del  Re  —  "  said  Kuggiero.  "  That  is  all." 

"How  strange!  "  exclaimed  Beatrice. 

"It  is  the  truth,  Excellency,  and  to  show 
you  that  it  is  the  truth  here  is  my  seaman's 
license." 

He  produced  a  little  flat  parchment  case  from 
his  pocket,  untied  the  thong  and  showed  Beatrice 


CHILDREN    OF    THE    KING.  209 

the  first  page  on  which  was  inscribed  his  name 
in  full. 

"  Ruggiero  of  the  Children  of  the  King,  son  of 
the  late  Ruggiero,  native  of  Verbicaro,  province 
of  Calabria  —  you  see,  Excellency.  It  is  the 
truth." 

"I  never  doubt  anything  you  say,  Ruggiero/' 
said  Beatrice  quietly. 

"  I  thank  you,  Excellency,"  answered  the 
sailor,  blushing  this  time  with  pleasure.  "For 
this  and  all  your  Excellency's  kindness." 

What  a  man  he  was  she  thought,  as  he  stood 
there  before  her,  bareheaded  in  the  sun-shot  shade 
under  the  trees,  the  light  playing  upon  his  fair 
hair  and  beard,  and  his  blue  eyes  gleaming  like 
drops  from  the  sea !  What  boys  and  dwarfs 
other  men  looked  beside  him ! 

"  Do  you  know  how  your  family  came  by  that 
strange  name,  Ruggiero  ? "  she  asked. 

"  No,  Excellency.  But  they  tell  so  many  silly 
stories  about  us  in  Verbicaro.  That  is  in  Cala 
bria  where  I  and  my  brother  were  born.  And 
when  our  mother,  blessed  soul,  was  dying  — 
good  health  to  your  Excellency  —  she  blessed 
us  and  said  this  to  us.  '  Ruggiero,  Sebastiano, 


210  CHILDKEN    OF    THE    KING. 

/ 

dear  sons,  you  could  not  save  me  and  I  am  going. 
God  bless  you/  said  she.  '  Our  Lady  help  you. 
Remember,  you  are  the  Children  of  the  King.' 
Then  she  said,  '  Remember '  again,  as  though 
she  would  say  something  more.  But  just  at  that 
very  moment  Christ  took  her,  and  she  did  not 
speak  again,  for  she  was  dead  —  good  health  to 
your  Excellency  for  a  thousand  j^ears.  And  so 
it  was." 

"And  what  happened  then  ?"  asked  Beatrice, 
strangely  interested  and  charmed  by  the  man's 
simple  story. 

"  Then  we  beat  Don  Pietro  Casale,  Excellency, 
and  spoiled  all  his  face  and  head.  We  were 
little  boys,  twelve  and  ten  years  old,  but  there 
was  the  anger  to  give  us  strength.  And  so  we 
ran  away  from  Verbicaro,  because  we  had  no  one 
and  we  had  to  eat,  and  had  beaten  Don  Pietro 
Casale,  who  would  have  had  us  put  in  prison  if 
he  had  caught  us.  But  thanks  to  Heaven  we 
had  good  legs.  And  so  we  ran  away,  Excel 
lency." 

"  It  is  very  interesting.  But  what  were  those 
stories  they  told  about  you  in  Verbidaro  ?  " 

"  Silly    stories,    Excellency.      They   say    that 


CHILDREN    OF    THE    KING.  211 

once  upon  a  time  King  Eoger  came  riding  by 
with  all  his  army  and  many  knights  ;  and  all 
armed  because  there  was  war.  And  he  took 
Verbiearo  from  the  Turks  and  gave  it  to  a  son 
of  his  who  was  called  the  Son  of  the  King,  as  I 
would  give  Bastianello  half  a  cigar  or  a  pipe  of 
tobacco  in  the  morning  —  it  is  true  he  always 
has  his  own  —  and  so  the  Son  of  the  King  stayed 
in  that  place  and  lived  there,  and  I  have  heard 
old  men  say  that  when  their  fathers  —  who  were 
also  old,  Excellency  —  were  boys,  many  houses 
in  Verbicaro  belonged  to  the  Children  of  the 
King.  But  then  they  ate  everything  and  we 
have  had  nothing  but  these  two  hands  and  these 
two  arms  and  now  we  go  about  seeking  to  eat. 
But  thanks  to  Heaven  —  and  to-day  is  Saturday 
—  we  have  been  able  to  work  enough.  And 
that  is  the  truth,  Excellency." 

"  What  a  strange  tale  !  "  exclaimed  the  young 
girl.  "  But  to-day  is  Tuesday,  Ruggiero.  Why 
do  you  say  it  is  Saturday  ?  " 

"  I  beg  pardon  of  your  Excellency,  it  is  a 
silly  custom  and  means  nothing.  But  when  a 
man  says  he  is  well,  or  that  there  is  a  west 
wind,  or  that  his  boat  is  sound,  he  says  '  to-day 


212  CHILDKEN    OF    THE    RING. 

is  Saturday/  because  it  might  be  Friday  and 
he  might  have  forgotten  that.  It  is  a  silly 
custom,  Excellency." 

"  Do  not  call  me  excellency,  Ruggiero,"  said 
Beatrice.  "  I  have  no  right  to  be  called  so." 

"  And  what  could  I  call  you  when  I  have  to 
speak  to  you,  Excellency  ?  I  have  been  taught 


so." 


"  Only  princes  and  dukes  and  their  children 
are  excellencies,"  answered  Beatrice.  "  My 
father  was  only  a  Marchese.  So  if  you  wish 
to  please  me,  call  me  '  signorina.'  That  is  the 
proper  way  to  speak  to  me." 

"  I  will  try,  Excellency,"  answered  Ruggiero, 
opening  his  blue  eyes  very  wide.  Beatrice 
laughed  a  little. 

"  You  see,"  she  said,  "you  did  it  again." 

"Yes,  Signorina,"  replied  Ruggiero.  "But 
I  will  not  forget  again.  When  the  tongue  of 
the  ignorant  has  learned -a  word  it  is  hard  to 
change  it." 

"'Well,  good-day  Ruggiero.  Your  story  is 
very  interesting.  I  am  going  to  breakfast,  and 
I  thank  you  for  what  you  did  for  me." 

"It  is  not  I  who  deserve  any  thanks.     And 


CHILDKEN    OF    THE    KING.  213 

good  appetite  to  you,  Signorina."     She  turned 
and  walked  slowly  back  towards  the  hotel. 

"  And  may  Our  Lady  bless  you  and  keep  you, 
and  send  an  angel  to  watch  over  every  hair  of 
your  blessed  head  !  "  said  Ruggiero  in  a  low 
voice  as  he  watched  her  graceful  figure  retreat 
ing  in  the  distance, 


,  CHAPTER   IX. 

AFTER  what  had  happened  on  the  previous 
evening  Ruggiero  had  expected  that  Beatrice 
would  treat  him  very  differently.  He  had  as 
suredly  not  foreseen  that  she  would  call  him 
from  his  seat  by  the  porter's  lodge,  ask  an 
important  service  of  him,  and  then  enter  into 
conversation  with  him  about  the  origin  of  his 
family  and  the  story  of  his  own  life.  His  slow 
but  logical  mind  pondered  on  these  things  in 
spite  of  the  disordered  action  of  his  heart,  which 
had  almost  choked  him  while  he  had  been  talk 
ing  with  the  young  girl.  Instead  of  going  back 
to  his  brother,  he  turned  aside  and  entered  the 
steep  descending  tunnel  through  the  rock  which 
leads  down  to  the  sea  and  the  little  harbour. 

Two  things  were  strongly  impressed  on  his 
mind.  First,  the  nature  of  the  service  he  had 
done  Beatrice  in  making  that  enquiry  at  the 
telegraph  office,  and  secondly  her  readiness  to 
forget  his  own  reckless  conduct  at  Tragara. 

214 


CHILDREN    OF    THE    KING.  215 

Both  these  points  suggested  reflections  which 
pleased  him  strangely.  It  was  quite  clear  to 
him  that  Beatrice  distrusted  San  Miniato, 
though  he  had  of  course  no  idea  of  the  nature  of 
the  telegram  concerning  which  she  had  wanted 
information.  He  only  understood  that  she  was 
watching  San  Miniato  with  suspicion,  expecting 
some  sort  of  foul  play.  But  there  was  an  im 
mense  satisfaction  in  that  thought,  and  Rug- 
giero's  eyes  sparkled  as  he  revolved  it  in  his 
brain. 

As  for  the  other  matter,  he  understood  it  less 
clearly.  He  was  quite  conscious  of  the  enormity 
of  his  misdeed  in  telling  a  lady,  and  a  great 
lady,  according  to  his  view,  that  he  loved  her, 
and  in  daring  to  touch  the  sleeves  of  her  dress 
with  his  rough  hands.  He  could  not  find  it  in 
him  to  regret  what  he  had  done,  but  he  was 
prepared  for  very  hard  treatment  as  his  just 
reward.  It  would  not  have  surprised  him  if 
Beatrice  had  then  and  there  complained  of  him 
to  her  mother  or  to  San  Miniato  himself,  and 
the  latter,  Ruggiero  supposed,  would  have  had 
no  difficulty  in  having  him  locked  up  in  the 
town  gaol  for  a  few  weeks  on  the  rather  serious 


216  CHILDREN    OF    THE    KING. 

ground  of  misdemeanour  towards  the  visitors  at 
the  watering-place.  A  certain  amount  of  rather 
arbitrary  power  is  placed  in  the  hands  of  the 
local  authorities  in  all  great  summer  resorts, 
and  it  is  quite  right  that  it  should  be  so  —  nor 
is  it  as  a  rule  unjustly  used. 

But  Beatrice  had  acted  very  differently,  very 
kindly  and  very  generously.  That  was  because 
she  was  naturally  so  good  and  gentle,  thought 
Ruggiero.  But  the  least  he  had  expected  was 
that  she  would  never  again  speak  to  him  save 
to  give  an  order,  nor  say  a  kind  word,  no  matter 
what  service  he  rendered  her,  or  what  danger  he 
ran  for  her  sake.  And  now,  a  moment  ago,  she 
had  talked  with  him  with  more  interest  and 
kindly  condescension  than  she  had  ever  shown 
before.  He  refused,  and  rightly,  to  believe  that 
this  was  because  she  had  needed  his  help  in  the 
matter  of  the  telegram.  She  could  have  called 
Bastianello,  who  was  in  her  own  service,  and 
Bastianello  would  have  done  just  as  well.  But 
she  had  chosen  to  employ  the  man  who  had  so 
rudely  forgotten  himself  before  her  less  than 
twenty-four  hours  earlier.  Why  ?  Ruggiero, 
little  capable,  by  natural  gifts  or  by  experience, 


CHILDREN    OF    THE    KING.  217 

of  dealing  with  such  questions,  found  himself 
face  to  face  with  a  great  problem  of  the  human 
self,  and  he  knew  at  once  that  he  could  never 
solve  it,  try  as  he  might.  His  happiness  was 
none  the  less  great,  nor  his  gratitude  the  less 
deep  and  sincere,  and  with  both  these  grew  up 
instantly  in  his  heart  the  strong  determination 
to  serve  her  at  every  turn,  so  far  as  lay  in  his 
power. 

It  was  not  much -that  he  could  do,  he  reflected, 
unless  she  would  show  him  the  way  as  she  had 
done  this  very  morning.  But,  considering  the 
position  of  affairs,  and  her  evident  distrust  of 
her  betrothed,  it  was  not  impossible  that  similar 
situations  might  arise  before  long.  If  they  did, 
Ruggiero  would  be  ready,  as  he  had  now  shown 
himself,  to  do  her  bidding  with  startling  direct 
ness  and  energy.  He  was  well  aware  of  his  phys 
ical  superiority  over  every  one  else  in  Sorrento, 
and  he  was  dimly  conscious  that  a  threat  from 
him  was  something  which  would  frighten  most 
men,  and  which  none  could  afford  to  overlook. 
He  remembered  poor  Don  Gennaro's  face  just 
now,  when  he  had  quietly  told  him  what  he 
might  expect  if  he  did  not  hold  his  tongue. 


218  CHILDREN    OF    THE    KING. 

Ruggiero  had  never  valued  his  life  very  highly, 
and  since  he  had  loved  Beatrice  he  did  not  value 
it  a  straw.  This  state  of  mind  can  make  a  man 
an  exceedingly  dangerous  person,  especially  when 
he  is  so  endowed  that  he  can  tear  a  new  horse 
shoe  in  two  with  his  hands,  and  break  a  five 
franc  piece  with  his  thumbs  and  forefingers  as 
another  man  breaks  a  biscuit. 

As  Ruggiero  came  out  of  the  tunnel  and 
reached  the  platform  of  rock  from  which  the 
last  part  of  the  descent  goes  down  to  the  sea  in 
the  open  air,  he  stood  still  a  moment  and  ex 
pressed  his  determination  in  a  low  tone.  There 
was  no  one  near  to  hear  him. 

"  Whatever  she  asks,"  he  said.  "  Truly  it  is 
of  great  importance  what  becomes  of  me  !  If  it 
is  a  little  thing  it  costs  nothing.  If  it  is  a  great 
thing  —  well,  I  will  do  it  if  I  can.  Then  I  will 
say,  '  Excellency  '  —  no  —  '  Signorina,  here  it  is 
done.  And  I  beg  to  kiss  your  Excellency's 
hand,  because  I  am  going  to  the  galleys  and  you 
will  not  see  me  any  more.'  And  then  they  will 
put  me  in,  and  it  will  be  finished,  and  I  shall 
always  have  the  satisfaction." 

Ruggiero  produced  a  fragment  of  a  cigar  from 


CHILDREN    OF    THE    KING.  219 

his  cap  and  a  match  from  the  same  safe  place 
and  began  to  srnoke,  looking  at  the  sea.  People 
not  used  to  the  peculiarities  of  southern  thought 
would  perhaps  have  been  surprised  at  the  desper 
ate  simplicity  of  Ruggiero's  statement  to  himself. 
But  those  who  have  been  long  familiar  with  men 
of  his  country  and  class  must  all  have  heard 
exactly  such  words  uttered  more  than  once  in 
their  experience,  and  will  remember  that  in  some 
cases  at  least  they  were  not  empty  threats,  which 
were  afterwards  very  exactly  and  conscientiously 
fulfilled  by  him  who  uttered  them,  and  who  now 
either  wears  a  green  cap  at  Ponza  or  Ischia,  or 
is  making  a  fortune  in  South  America,  having 
had  the  luck  to  escape  as  a  stowaway  on  a 
foreign  vessel. 

Nor  did  it  strike  Ruggiero  as  at  all  improbable 
that  Beatrice  might  some  day  wish  to  be  rid  of 
the  Conte  di  San  Miniato,  and  might  express 
such  a  wish,  ever  so  vaguely,  within  Ruggiero's 
hearing.  He  had  the  bad  taste  to  judge  her  by 
himself,  and  of  course  if  she  really  hated  her 
betrothed  she  would  wish  him  to  die.  It  was 
a  sin,  doubtless,  to  wish  anybody  dead,  and  it 
was  a  greater  sin  to  put  out  one's  hands  and 


220  CHILDREN    OF    THE    KING. 

kill  the  person  in  question.  But  it  was  human 
nature,  according  to  Ruggiero's  simple  view,  and 
of  course  Beatrice  felt  like  other  human  beings 
in  this  matter  and  all  the  principal  affairs  of 
life.  He  had  made  up  his  mind,  and  he  never 
repeated  the  words  he  .had  spoken  to  himself. 
He  was  a  simple  man,  and  he  puffed  at  his 
stump  of  a  black  cigar  and  strolled  down  to  the 
boat  to  find  out  whether  the  Cripple  and  the  Son 
of  the  Fool  had  spliced  that  old  spare  moo  ring- 
rope  which  had  done  duty  last  night  and  had 
been  found  chafed  this  morning. 

Meanwhile  the  human  nature  on  which  Rug- 
giero  counted  so  naturally  and  confidently  was 
going  through  a  rather  strange  phase  of  develop 
ment  in  the  upper  regions  where  the  Marchesa's 
terrace  was  situated. 

Beatrice  walked  slowly  back  under  the  trees. 
Ruggiero's  quaint  talk  had  amused  her  and  had 
momentarily  diverted  the  current  of  her  thoughts. 
But  the  moment  she  left  him,  her  mind  reverted 
to  her  immediate  trouble,  and  she  felt  a  little 
stab  of  pain  at  the  heart  which  was  new  to  her. 
The  news  that  San  Miniato  had  actually  sent  a 
telegram  was  unwelcome  in  the  extreme.  He 


CHILDREN    OF    THE    KING.  221 

had,  indeed,  said  in  her  presence  that  he  had 
sent  several.  But  that  might  have  been  a  care 
less  inaccuracy,  or  he  might  have  actually 
written  the  rest  and  given  them  to  be  despatched 
before  coming  upstairs.  To  doubt  that  the  one 
message  already  sent  contained  the  news  of  his 
engagement,  seemed  gratuitous.  It  was  only  too 
sure  that  he  had  looked  upon  what  had  passed 
at  Tragara  as  a  final  decision  on  the  part  of 
Beatrice,  and  that  henceforth  she  was  his  affi 
anced  bride.  Her  mother  had  not  even  found 
great  difficulty  in  persuading  her  of  the  fact, 
and  after  that  one  bitter  struggle  she  had  given 
up  the  battle.  It  had  been  bitter  indeed  while 
it  had  lasted,  and  some  of  the  bitterness  returned 
upon  her  now.  But  she  would  not  again  need 
to  force  the  tears  back,  pressing  her  hands  upon 
her  eyes  with  desperate  strength  as  she  had  done. 
It  was  useless  to  cry  over  what  could  not  be 
helped,  and  since  she  had  made  the  great  mistake 
of  her  life  she  must  keep  her  word  or  lose  her 
good  name  for  ever,  according  to  the  ideas  in 
which  she  had  been  brought  up.  But  it  would 
be  very  hard  to  meet  San  Miniato  now,  within 
the  next  quarter  of  an  hour,  as  she  inevitably 


222  CHILDREN    OF    THE    KING. 

must.  Less  hard,  perhaps,  than  if  she  had  con 
victed  him  of  falsehood  in  the  matter  of  the 
telegram,  as  she  had  fully  expected  that  she 
could  —  but  painful  enough,  heaven  knew. 

There  was  an  old  trace  of  oriental  fatalism 
in  her  nature,  passed  down  to  her,  perhaps,  from 
some  Saracen  ancestor  in  the  unknown  genealogy 
of  her  family.  It  is  common  enough  in  the 
south,  often  profoundly  leavened  with  super 
stition,  sometimes  existing  side  by  side  with  the 
most  absolute  scepticism,  but  its  influence  is 
undeniable,  and  accounts  for  a  certain  resigna 
tion  in  hopeless  cases  which  would  be  utterly 
foreign  to  the  northern  character.  Beatrice  had 
it,  and  having  got  the  worst  of  the  first  contest 
she  conceived  that  further  resistance  would  be 
wholly  useless,  and  accepted  the  inevitable  con 
clusion  that  she  must  marry  San  Miniato 
whether  she  liked  him  or  not.  But  this  state  of 
mind  did  not  by  any  means  imply  that  she 
would  marry  him  with  a  good  grace,  or  ever 
again  return  in  her  behaviour  towards  him  to 
the  point  she  had  reached  on  the  previous 
evening.  That,  thought  Beatrice,  would  be  too 
much  to  expect,  and  was  certainly  more  than 


CHILDREN    OF    THE    KING.  223 

she  intended  to  give.  She  would  be  quite 
willing  to  show  that  she  had  been  deceived  into 
consenting,  and  was  only  keeping  her  word  as 
a  matter  of  principle.  San  Miniato  might  think 
what  he  pleased.  She  knew  that  whatever  she 
did,  he  would  never  think  of  breaking  off  the 
engagement,  since  what  he  wanted  was  not  her 
self  but  her  fortune.  She  shut  her  parasol  with 
a  rather  vicious  snap  as  she  went  into  the  cool 
hall  out  of  the  sun,  and  the  hard  look  in  her  face 
was  more  accentuated  than  before,  as  she  slowly 
ascended  the  steps. 

The  conversation  between  her  mother  and 
San  Miniato  during  her  short  absence  had  been 
characteristic.  They  understood  each  other  per 
fectly  but  neither  would  have  betrayed  to  the 
other,  by  the  merest  hint,  the  certainty  that  the 
marriage  was  by  no  means  agreeable  to  poor 
Beatrice  herself. 

"  Dearest  Marchesa,"  said  San  Miniato,  touch 
ing  her  hand  with  his  lips,  and  then  seating 
himself  beside  her,  "  tell  me  that  you  are  not 
too  much  exhausted  after  your  exertions  last 
night  ?  Have  you  slept  well  ?  Have  you  any 
appetite  ? " 


224  CHILDREN    OF    THE    KING. 

"  What  a  good  doctor  you  would  make,  dear 
friend!"  exclaimed  the  Marchesa  with  a  little 
smile. 

And  so  they  exchanged  the  amenities  usual  at 
their  first  meeting  in  the  day,  as  though  they 
had  not  been  buying  and  selling  an  innocent 
soul,  and  did  not  appreciate  the  fact  in  its 
startling  reality.  Several  more  phrases  of  the 
same  kind  were  spoken. 

"  And  how  is  Donna  Beatrice  ?"  inquired  San 
Miniato  at  last. 

"Why  not  call  her  Beatrice  ?  "  asked  the  Mar 
chesa  carelessly.  "  She  is  very  well.  You  just 
saw  her." 

"I  fancy  it  would  seem  a  little  premature,  a 
little  familiar  to  call  her  so,"  answered  the 
Count,  who  remembered  his  recent  discomfiture. 
"  For  the  present,  I  believe  she  would  prefer  a 
little  more  ceremony.  I  do  not  know  whether 
I  am  right.  Pray  give  me  your  advice,  Mar 
chesa  carissima." 

"  Of  course  you  are  right  —  you  always  are. 
You  were  right  about  the  moon  yesterday  — 
though  I  did  not  notice  that  it  was  shining 
here  when  we  came  home,"  she  added  thought- 


CHILDREN    OF    THE    KING.  225 

fully,  not  by  any  means  satisfied  with  the  in 
sufficient  demonstration  he  had  given  her  at 
first. 

"  No  doubt,"  replied  San  Miniato  indifferently. 
He  took  no  further  interest  in  the  movements  of 
the  satellite  since  he  had  gained  his  point,  and 
the  Marchesa  was  far  too  lazy  to  revive  the  dis 
cussion.  "  I  am  glad  you  agree  with  me  about 
my  behaviour,"  he  continued.  "  It  is  of  course 
most  important  to  maintain  as  much  as  possible 
the  good  impression  I  was  so  fortunate  as  to 
make  last  night,  and  I  have  had  enough  experi 
ence  of  the  world  to  know  that  it  will  not  be  an 
easy  matter." 

"No,  indeed  —  and  with  Beatrice's  character, 
too !  " 

"  The  most  charming  character  I  ever  met," 
said  San  Miniato  with  sufficient  warmth.  "  But 
young,  of  course,  as  it  should  be  and  subject  to 
the  enchanting  little  caprices  which  belong  to 
youth  and  beauty." 

"  Yes,  which  always  belong  to  youth  and 
beauty,"  assented  the  Marchesa. 

"  And  I  am  quite  prepared,  for  instance,  to  be 
treated  coldly  to-day  and  warmly  to-morrow,  if 


226  CHILDREN    OF    THE    KING. 

it  so  pleases  the  dear  young  lady.  She  will 
always  find  me  the  same." 

"  How  good  you  are,  dearest  friend ! "  ex 
claimed  the  Marchesa,  thoroughly  understanding 
what  he  meant,  and  grateful  to  him  for  his  tact, 
which  was  sometimes,  indeed,  of  the  highest 
order. 

"  It  would  be  strange  if  I  were  not  happy  and 
satisfied,"  he  answered,  "and  ready  to  accept 
gratefully  the  smallest  favour  with  which  it 
may  please  Donna  Beatrice  to  honor  me." 

He  was  indeed  both  happy  and  satisfied,  for 
he  saw  no  reason  to  suppose  that  the  Granmi- 
chele  fortune  could  now  slip  from  his  grasp. 
Moreover  he  had  considerable  confidence  in 
himself  and  his  powers,  and  he  thought  it  quite 
probable  that  the  scene  of  the  previous  evening 
might  before  long  be  renewed  with  more  lasting 
effect.  Beatrice  was  young  and  capricious ; 
there  is  nothing  one  may  count  on  so  surely  as 
youth  and  caprice.  Caprice  is  sure  to  change, 
but  who  is  sure  that  the  faith  kept  for  ten  years 
will  not  ?  In  youth  love  is  sure  to  come  some 
day,  but  when  that  day  is  past  is  it  ever  sure 
that  he  will  come  again  ?  San  Miniato  knew 


CHILDREN    OF    THE    KING.  227 

these  things  and  many  more  like  them,  and  was 
wise  in  his  generation  as  well  as  a  man  of  the 
world,  accustomed  to  its  ways  from  his  child 
hood  and  nourished  with  the  sour  milk  of  its 
wisdom  from  his  earliest  youth  upward. 

So  he  quietly  conveyed  to  the  Marchesa  the 
information  that  he  understood  Beatrice's  pres 
ent  mood  and  that  he  would  not  attach  more 
importance  to  it  than  it  deserved.  They  talked 
a  little  longer  together,  both  for  the  present 
avoiding  any  reference  to  the  important  ar 
rangements  which  must  soon  be  discussed  in 
connection  with  the  marriage  contract,  but  both 
taking  it  entirely  for  granted  that  the  marriage 
itself  was  quite  agreed  upon  and  settled. 

Then  Beatrice  returned  and  sat  down  silently 
by  the  table. 

"  Have  you  been  for  a  little  walk,  my  angel?'' 
enquired  her  mother. 

"  Yes,  mamma,  I  have  been  for  a  little  walk." 

"  You  are  not  tired  then,  after  our  excursion, 
Donna  Beatrice?"  enquired  San  Miniato. 

"  Not  in  the  least,"  answered  the  young  girl, 
taking  up  a  book  and  beginning  to  read. 

"  Beatrice  !  "  exclaimed  her  mother  in  amaze- 


228  CHILDREN    OF    THE    KING. 

ment.  "  My  child !  What  are  you  reading ! 
Maupassant !  Have  you  quite  forgotten  your 
self  ?  " 

"  I  am  trying  to,  mamma.  And  since  I  am 
to  be  married — what  difference  does  it  make?" 

She  spoke  without  laying  down  the  volume. 
San  Miniato  pretended  to  pay  no  attention  to 
the  incident,  and  slowly  rolled  a  fat  cigarette 
between  his  fingers  to  soften  it  before  smoking. 
The  Marchesa  made  gestures  to  Beatrice  with  an 
unusual  expenditure  of  energy,  but  with  no  effect. 

"  It  seems  very  interesting,"  said  the  latter. 
"  I  had  no  idea  he  wrote  so  well.  It  seems 
to  be  quite  different  from  Telemaque  —  more 
amusing  in  every  way." 

Then  the  Marchesa  did  Vhat  she  had  not 
done  in  many  years.  She  asserted  her  parental 
authority.  Very  lazily  she  put  her  feet  to  the 
ground,  laid  her  fan,  her  handkerchief  and  her 
cigarette  case  together,  and  rose  to  her  feet. 
Coming  round  the  table  she  took  the  forbidden 
book  out  of  Beatrice's  hands,  shut  it  up  and  put 
it  back  in  its  place.  Beatrice  made  no  opposi 
tion,  but  raised  her  broad  eyebrows  wearily  and 
folded  her  hands  in  her  lap. 


CHILDREN    OF    THE    KING.  229 

"  Of  course,  if  you  insist,  I  have  nothing  to 
say,"  she  remarked,  "  any  more  than  I  have  any 
thing  to  do  since  you  will  not  let  me  read." 

The  Marchesa  went  back  to  her  lounge  and 
carefully  arranged  her  belongings  and  settled 
herself  comfortably  before  she  spoke. 

"I  think  you  are  a  little  out  of  temper, 
Beatrice  dear,  or  perhaps  you  are  hungry,  my 
child.  You  so  often  are.  San  Miniato,  what 
time  is  it  ?" 

"A  quarter  before  twelve,"  answered  the 
Count. 

"  Of  course  you  will  breakfast  with  us.  Ring 
the  bell,  dearest  friend.  We  will  not  wait  any 
longer." 

San  Miniato  rose  and  touched  the  button. 

"  You  are  as  hospitable  as  you  are  good,"  he 
said.  "  But  if  you  will  forgive  me,  I  will  not 
accept  your  invitation  to-day.  An  old  friend  of 
mine  is  at  the  other  hotel  for  a  few  hours  and  I 
have  promised  to  breakfast  with  him.  Will  you 
excuse  me  ?" 

Beatrice  made  an  almost  imperceptible  gesture 
of  indifference  with  her  hand. 

"  Who  is  your  friend  ?"  she  asked. 


230  CHILDREN    OF    THE    KING. 

"  A  Piedmontese,"  answered  San  Miniato  in 
differently.  "  You  do  not  know  him." 

"  We  are  very  sorry  to  lose  you,  especially 
to-day,  San  Miniato  carissimo,"  said  the  Mar- 
chesa.  "  But  if  it  cannot  be  helped  —  well, 
good-bye." 

So  San  Miniato  went  out  and  left  the  mother 
and  daughter  together  again  as  he  had  found 
them.  It  is  needless  to  say  that  the  Piedmon- 
tese  friend  was  a  fiction,  and  that  San  Miniato 
had  no  engagement  of  that  kind.  He  had 
hastily  resolved  to  keep  one  of  a  different  nature 
because  he  guessed  that  in  Beatrice's  present 
temper  he  would  make  matters  more  difficult  by 
staying.  And  in  this  he  was  right,  for  Beatrice 
had  made  up  her  mind  to  be  thoroughly  disagree 
able  and  she  possessed  the  elements  of  success 
requisite  for  that  purpose  —  a  sharp  tongue,  a 
quick  instinct  and  great  presence  of  mind. 

San  Miniato  descended  the  stairs  and  strolled 
out  into  the  orange  garden,  looking  at  his  watch 
as  he  left  the  door  of  the  hotel.  It  was  very 
hot,  but  further  away  from  the  house  the  sea 
breeze  was  blowing  through  the  trees.  He  was 
still  smoking  the  cigarette  he  had  lighted 


CHILDREN    OF    THE    KING.  231 

upstairs,  and  he  sat  down  on  a  bench  in  the 
shade,  took  out  a  pocket  book  and  began  to  make 
notes.  From  time  to  time  he  looked  along  the 
path  in  the  direction  of  the  hotel,  which  was 
hidden  from  view  by  the  shrubbery.  Then  the 
clock  struck  twelve  and  a  few  minutes  later  the 
church  bells  began  to  ring,  as  they  do  half  a 
dozen  times  a  day  in  Italy  on  small  provocation. 
Still  San  Miniato  went  on  with  his  calculations. 
Before  many  minutes  more  had  passed,  a  trim 
young  figure  appeared  in  the  path  —  a  young  girl, 
with  pink  cheeks  and  bright  dark  eyes,  no  other 
than  Teresina,  the  Marchesa's  maid.  She  carried 
some  sewing  in  her  hand  and  looked  nervously 
behind  her  and  to  the  right  and  left  as  she 
walked.  But  there  was  no  one  in  the  garden  at 
that  hour.  The  guests  of  the  hotel  were  all  at 
breakfast,  and  the  servants  were  either  asleep  or 
at  work  indoors.  The  porter  was  at  his  dinner 
and  the  sailors  were  presumably  eating  their 
midday  bread  and  cheese  down  by  the  boats,  or 
dining  at  their  homes  if  they  lived  near  by. 
The  breeze  blew  pleasantly  through  the  trees, 
making  the  broad  polished  leaves  rustle  and  the 
little  green  oranges  rock  on  the  boughs. 


232  CHILDREN    OF    THE    KING. 

As  soon  as  San  Miniato  caught  sight  of  Tere- 
sina  he  put  his  note-book  into  his  pocket  and  rose 
to  his  feet.  His  face  betrayed  neither  pleasure 
nor  surprise  as  he  sauntered  along  the  path,  until 
he  was  close  to  her.  Then  both  stopped,  and  he 
smiled,  bending  down  and  looking  into  her  eyes. 

"  For  charity's  sake,  Signor  Conte  !  "  cried  the 
girl,  drawing  back,  blushing  and  looking  behind 
her  quickly.  "  I  ought  never  to  have  come 
here.  Why  did  you  make  me  come  ?" 

"  What  an  idea,  Teresina ! "  laughed  San 
Miniato  softly.  "  And  if  you  ask  me  why  I 
wanted  you  to  come,  here  is  the  reason.  Now 
tell  me,  Teresinella,  is  it  a  good  reason  or  not?" 

Thereupon  San  Miniato  produced  from  his 
waistcoat  pocket  a  little  limp  parcel  wrapped  in 
white  tissue  paper  and  laid  it  in  Teresina's  hand. 
It  was  heavy,  and  she  guessed  that  it  contained 
something  of  gold. 

"What  is  it?"  she  asked  quickly.  "Ami 
to  give  it  to  the  Signorina  ?  " 

"To  the  Signorina!"  San  Miniato  laughed 
softly  again  and  laid  his  hand  very  gently  on 
the  girl's  arm.  "Yes,"  he  whispered,  bending 
down  to  her.  "  To  the  Signorina  Teresinella, 


CHILDREN    OF    THE    KING.  233 

who  can  have  all  she  asks  for  if  she  will  only 
care  a  little  for  me." 

"  Heavens,  Signer  Conte ! "  cried  Teresina. 
"  Was  it  to  say  this  that  you  made  me  come  ?  " 

"  This  and  a  great  deal  more,  Teresina  bella. 
Open  your  little  parcel  while  I  tell  you  the  rest, 
Who  made  you  so  pretty,  carissiina  ?  Nature 
knew  what  she  was  doing  when  she  made  those 
eyes  of  yours  and  those  bright  cheeks,  and  those 
little  hands  and  this  small  waist  —  per  Dio  —  if 
some  one  I  know  were  as  pretty  as  Teresinella, 
all  Naples  would  be  at  her  feet !  " 

He  slipped  his  arm  round  her,  there  in  the 
shade.  Still  she  held  the  package  unopened  in 
her  hand.  She  grew  a  little  pale,  as  he  touched 
her,  and  shrank  away  as  though  to  avoid  him, 
but  evidently  uncertain  and  deeply  disturbed. 
The  poor  girl's  good  and  evil  angels  were  busy 
deciding  her  fate  for  her  at  that  moment. 

"  Open  your  little  gift  and  see  whether  you 
like  the  reason  I  give  you  for  coming  here,"  said 
San  Miniato,  who  was  pleased  with  the  turn  of 
the  phrase  and  thought  it  as  well  to  repeat  it. 
"  Open  it,  Teresinella,  bella,  bella  —  the  first  of 
as  many  as  you  like  —  and  come  and  sit  beside 


234  CHILDREN    OF    THE    KING. 

me  on  the  bench  there  and  let  me  talk  a  little. 
I  have  so  much  to  say  to  you,  all  pretty  things 
which  you  will  like,  and  the  hour  is  short,  you 
know." 

Poor  girl !  He  was  a  fine  gentleman  with  a 
very  great  name,  as  Teresina  knew,  and  he  was 
young  still  and  handsome,  and  had  winning 
ways,  and  she  loved  gold  and  pretty  speeches 
dearly.  She  looked  down,  still  shrinking  away 
from  him,  till  she  stood  with  her  back  to  a  tree. 
Her  fresh  young  face  was  almost  white  now  and 
her  eyelids  trembled  from  time  to  time,  while 
her  lips  moved  though  she  was  not  conscious  of 
what  she  wanted  to  say. 

"  Ah,  Teresina !  "  he  exclaimed,  with  a  nicely 
adjusted  cadence  of  passion  in  the  tone.  "  What 
are  you  waiting  for,  my  little  angel  ?  It  is  time 
to  love  when  one  is  young  and  the  world  is 
green,  and  your  eyes  are  bright,  carina !  When 
the  heart  beats  and  the  blood  is  warm !  And  you 
are  made  for  love  —  that  mouth  of  yours  —  like 
the  red  carnations  —  one  kiss  Teresinella  —  that 
is  all  I  ask  —  one  kiss  and  no  more,  —  here  in 
the  shade  while  no  one  is  looking  —  one  kiss, 
carina  mia  —  there  is  no  sin  in  kissing — " 


CHILDREN    OF    THE    KING.  235 

And  he  tried  to  draw  her  to  him.  But  either 
Teresina  was  naturally  a  very  good  girl,  or  her 
good  angel  had  demolished  his  evil  adversary  in 
the  encounter  which  had  taken  place.  There 
is  an  odd  sort  of  fierce  loyalty  very  often  to  be 
found  at  the  root  of  the  Sicilian  character.  She 
looked  up  suddenly  and  her  eyes  met  his.  She 
held  out  the  little  package  still  unopened. 

"  You  have  made  a  mistake,  Signor  Conte," 
she  said,  quietly  enough.  "  I  am  an  honest  girl, 
and  though  you  are  a  great  signore  I  will  tell 
you  that  if  you  had  any  honour  you  would  not 
be  making  love  to  me  out  here  in  the  garden 
while  you  are  paying  court  to  the  Signorina 
when  you  are  in  the  house,  and  doing  your  best 
to  marry  her.  It  is  infamous  enough,  what  you 
are  doing,  and  I  am  not  afraid  to  tell  you  so. 
And  take  back  your  gold,  for  I  do  not  want  it, 
and  it  is  not  clean !  And  so  good-day,  Signor 
Conte,  and  many  thanks.  When  you  asked  me 
to  come  here,  I  thought  you  had  some  private 
message  for  the  Signorina." 

During  Teresina's  speech  San  Miniato  had  not 
betrayed  the  slightest  surprise  or  disappointment. 
He  quietly  lighted  a  cigarette  and  smiled  good- 
humouredly  all  the  time. 


236  CHILDREN    OF    THE    KING. 

"My  dear  Teresina,"  lie  said,  when  she  had 
finished,  "  what  in  the  world  do  you  think  I 
wanted  of  you  ?  Not  only  am  I  paying  court 
to  your  signorina,  as  you  say,  but  I  am  already 
betrothed  to  her,  since  last  night.  You  did  not 
know  that?" 

"  The  greater  the  shame  !  "  exclaimed  the  girl, 
growing  angry. 

"  Not  at  all,  my  dear  child.  On  the  contrary, 
it  explains  everything  in  the  most  natural  way. 
Is  it  not  really  natural  that  on  the  occasion  of 
my  betrothal  I  should  wish  to  give  you  a  little 
remembrance,  because  you  have  always  been  so 
obliging,  and  have  been  with  the  Marchesa  since 
you  were  a  child  ?  I  could  not  do  anything  else, 
I  am  sure,  and  I  beg  you  to  keep  it  and  wear  it. 
And  as  for  my  telling  you  that  you  are  pretty 
and  young  and  fresh,  I  do  not  see  why  you 
need  be  so  mortally  offended  at  that.  However, 
Teresina,  I  am  sorry  if  you  misunderstood  me. 
You  will  keep  the  little  chain  ?  " 

"  No,  Signer  Conte.  Take  it.  And  I  do  not 
believe  a  word  you  say." 

She  held  out  the  parcel  to  him,  but  he,  still 
smiling,  shook  his  head  and  would  not  take  it. 


CHILDREN    OF    THE    KING.  237 

Then  she  let  it  drop  at  his  feet,  and  turned 
quickly  and  left  him.  He  watched  her  a  mo 
ment,  and  his  annoyance  at  his  discomfiture 
showed  itself  plainly  enough,  so  soon  as  she  was 
not  there  to  see  it.  Then  he  shrugged  his 
shoulders,  stooped  and  picked  up  the  package, 
restored  it  to  his  waistcoat  pocket  and  went  back 
to  his  bench. 

"  It  is  a  pity,"  he  muttered,  as  he  took  out  his 
note-book  again.  "  It  would  have  been  such 
good  practice  !  " 

An  hour  later  Bastianello  was  sitting  alone  in 
the  boat,  under  the  awning,  enjoying  the  cool 
breeze  and  wishing  that  the  ladies  would  go  for 
a  sail  while  it  lasted,  instead  of  waiting  until 
late  in  the  afternoon  as  they  generally  did, 
at  which  time  there  was  usually  not  a  breath 
of  air  on  the  water.  He  was  smoking  a  clay 
pipe  with  a  cane  stem,  and  he  was  thinking 
vaguely  of  Teresina,  wondering  whether  Rug- 
giero  would  never  speak  to  her,  and  if  he  never 
did,  whether  he,  Bastianello,  might  not  at  last 
have  his  turn. 

A  number  of  small  boys  were  bathing  in  the 
bright  sunshine,  diving  off  the  stones  of  the 


238  CHILDREN    OF    THE    KING. 

breakwater  and  running  along  the  short  pier, 
brown  urchins  with  lithe  thin  limbs,  matted 
black  hair  and  beady  eyes.  Suddenly  Bastianello 
was  aware  of  a  small  dark  face  and  two  little 
hands  holding  upon  the  gunwale  of  his  boat. 
He  knew  the  boy  very  well,  for  he  was  the  son 
of  the  Son  of  the  Fool. 

"  Let  go,  Nenne  !  "  he  said ;  "  do  you  take  us 
for  a  bathing  house  ?  " 

"  You  have  a  beautiful  pair  of  padroni,  you 
and  your  brother,"  observed  Nenne,  making  a 
hideous  face  over  the  boat's  side. 

Bastianello  did  not  move,  but  stretched  out 
his  long  arm  to  take  up  the  boat-hook,  which  lay 
within  his  reach. 

"  If  you  had  seen  what  I  saw  in  the  garden  up 
there  just  now,"  continued  the  small  boy.  "  Ma 
donna  mia,  what  a  business  !  " 

"Eh,  you  rascal?  what  did  you  see?"  asked 
the  sailor,  turning  the  boat-hook  round  and  hold 
ing  it  so  that  he  could  rap  the  boy's  knuckles 
with  the  butt  end  of  it. 

"  There  was  the  Count,  who  is  Kuggiero's 
padrone,  trying  to  kiss  your  signora's  maid, 
and  offering  her  the  gold,  and  she  —  yah!" 


CHILDREN    OF    THE    KING.  239 

Another  hideous  grimace,  apparently  of  delight, 
interrupted  the  narrative. 

"  What  did  she  do  ?"  asked  Bastianello  quietly. 
But  he  grew  a  shade  paler. 

"  Eh  ?  you  want  to  know  now,  do  you  ?  What 
will  you  give  me  ? "  inquired  the  urchin. 

"  Half  a  cigar/'  said  Bastianello,  who  knew 
the  boy's  vicious  tastes,  and  forthwith  produced 
the  bribe  from  his  cap,  holding  it  up  for  the  other 
to  see. 

"  What  did  she  do  ?  She  threw  down  the  gold 
and  called  him  an  infamous  liar  to  his  face.  A 
nice  padrone  Ruggiero  has,  who  is  called  a  liar 
and  an  infamous  one  by  serving  maids.  Well, 
give  me  the  cigar." 

"  Take  it,"  said  the  sailor,  rising  and  reaching 
out. 

The  urchin  stuck  it  between  his  teeth,  nodded 
his  thanks,  lowered  himself  gently  into  the 
water  so  as  not  to  wet  it,  and  swam  cautiously 
to  the  breakwater,  holding  his  head  in  the  air. 

Bastianello  sat  down  again  and  continued  to 
smoke  his  pipe.  There  was  a  happy  look  in 
his  bright  blue  eyes  which  had  not  been  there 
before. 


CHAPTER   X. 

BASTIANELLO  sat  still  in  his  boat,  but  he  no 
longer  looked  to  seaward,  facing  the  breeze.  He 
kept  an  eye  on  the  pier,  looking  out  for  his 
brother,  who  had  not  appeared  since  the  midday 
meal.  The  piece  of  information  he  had  just  re 
ceived  was  worth  communicating,  for  it  raised 
Teresina  very  much  in  the  eyes  of  Bastianello, 
and  he  did  not  doubt  that  it  would  influence 
Ruggiero  in  the  right  direction.  Bastianello, 
too,  was  keen  enough  to  see  that  anything 
which  gave  him  an  opportunity  of  discussing 
the  girl  with  his  brother  might  be  of  advantage, 
in  that  it  might  bring  Ruggiero  to  the  open  ex 
pression  of  a  settled  purpose  —  either  to  marry 
the  girl  or  not.  And  if  he  once  gave  his  word 
that  he  would  not,  Bastianello  would  be  no 
longer  bound  to  suffer  in  silence  as  he  had  suf 
fered  so  many  weeks.  The  younger  of  the 
brothers  was  less  passionate,  less  nervous  and 
less  easily  moved  in  every  way  than  the  elder, 

240 


CHILDREN    OF    THE    KING.  241 

but  he  possessed  much  of  the  same  general  char 
acter  and  all  of  the  same  fundamental  good  qual 
ities  —  strength,  courage  and  fidelity.  In  his 
quiet  way  he  was  deeply  and  sincerely  in  love 
with  Teresina,  and  meant,  if  possible  and  if 
Ruggiero  did  not  take  her,  to  make  her  his 
wife. 

At  last  Ruggiero' s  tall  figure  appeared  at  the 
corner  of  the  building  occupied  by  the  coastguard 
station,  and  Bastianello  immediately  whistled 
to  him,  giving  a  signal  which  had  served '  the 
brothers  since  they  were  children.  Ruggiero 
started,  turned  his  head  and  at  once  jumped 
into  the  first  boat  he  could  lay  hands  on  and 
pulled  out  alongside  of  his  brother. 

"  What  is  it  ? "  he  asked,  letting  his  oars 
swing  astern  and  laying  hold  on  the  gunwale 
of  the  sail  boat. 

"About  Teresina,"  answered  Bastianello,  tak 
ing  his  pipe  from  his  mouth  and  leaning  towards 
his  brother.  "  The  son  of  the  Son  of  the  Fool 
was  swimming  about  here  just  now,  and  he 
hauled  himself  half  aboard  of  me  and  made 
faces.  So  I  took  the  boat-hook  to  hit  his  fin 
gers.  And  just  then  he  said  to  me,  'You 


242  CHILDREN    OF    THE    KING. 

have  a  beautiful  pair  of  masters  you  and  your 
brother.'  'Why?'  I  asked,  and  I  held  the 
boat-hook  ready.  But  I  would  not  have  hurt 
the  boy,  because  he  is  one  of  ours.  So  he  told 
me  that  he  had  just  seen  the  Count  up  there  in 
the  garden  of  the  hotel,  trying  to  kiss  Teresina 
and  offering  her  the  gold,  and  I  gave  him  half 
a  cigar  to  tell  me  the  rest,  because  he  would  not, 
and  made  faces." 

"  May  he  die  murdered  !  "  exclaimed  Ruggiero 
in  a  low  voice,  his  face  as  white  as  canvas. 

"  Wait  a  little,  she  is  a  good  girl,"  answered 
Bastianello.  "  Teresina  threw  the  gold  upon  the 
ground  and  told  the  Count  that  he  was  an  in 
famous  one  and  a  liar.  And  then  she  went  away. 
And  I  think  the  boy  was  speaking  the  truth,  be 
cause  if  it  were  a  lie  he  would  have  spoken  in 
another  way.  For  it  was  as  easy  to  say  that  the 
Count  kissed  her  as  to  say  that  she  would  not  let 
him,  and  he  would  have  had  the  tobacco  all  the 


same." 


"  May  he  die  of  a  stroke  !  "  muttered  Rug 
giero. 

"  But  if  I  were  in  your  place,"  said  his  brother 
calmly,  "I  would  not  do  anything  to  your 


CHILDREN    OF    THE    KING.  243 

padrone,  because  the  girl  is  a  good  girl  and  gave 
him  the  good  answer,  and  as  for  him  —  "  Bas- 
tianello  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"  May  the  sharks  get  his  body  and  the  devil 
get  his  soul !  " 

"  That  will  be  as  it  shall  be/'  answered  Bas- 
tianello.  "  And  it  is  sure  that  if  God  wills,  the 
grampuses  will  eat  him.  But  we  do  not  know 
the  end.  What  I  would  say  is  this,  that  it  is 
time  you  should  speak  to  the  girl,  because  I  see 
how  white  you  get  when  we  talk  of  her,  and  you 
are  consuming  yourself  and  will  have  an  illness, 
and  though  I  could  work  for  both  you  and  me, 
four  arms  are  better  than  two,  in  summer  as  in 
winter.  Therefore  I  say,  go  and  speak  to  her, 
for  she  will  have  you  and  she  will  be  better  with 
you  than  near  that  apoplexy  of  a  San  Miniato." 

Ruggiero  did  not  answer  at  once,  but  pulled 
out  his  pipe  and  filled  it  and  began  to  smoke. 

"Why  should  I  speak?"  he  asked  at  last. 
There  was  a  struggle  in  his  mind,  for  he  did  not 
wish  to  tell  Bastianello  outright  that  he  did  not 
really  care  for  Teresina.  If  he  betrayed  this 
fact  it  would  be  hard  hereafter  to  account  for  his 
own  state,  which  was  too  apparent  to  be  con- 


244  CHILDREN    OF    THE    KING. 

cealed,  especially  from  his  brother,  and  he  had 
no  idea  that  the  latter  loved  the  girl. 

"  Why  should  you  speak  ?  "  asked  Bastianello, 
repeating  the  words,  and  stirring  the  ashes  in 
his  pipe  with  the  point  of  his  knife.  "  Because 
if  you  do  not  speak  you  will  never  get  any 
thing." 

"  It  will  be  the  same  if  I  do/'  observed  Rug- 
giero  stolidly. 

"  I  believe  that  very  little/'  returned  the 
other.  "  And  I  will  tell  you  something.  If  I 
were  to  speak  to  Teresina  for  you  and  say, 
'Here  is  my  brother  Ruggiero,  who  is  not  a 
great  signore,  but  is  well  grown  and  has  two 
arms  which  are  good,  and  a  matter  of  seven  or 
eight  hundred  francs  in  the  bank,  and  who  is 
very  fond  of  you,  but  he  does  not  know  how  to 
say  it.  Think  well  if  you  will  have  him/  I 
would  say,  '  and  if  you  will  not,  give  me  an 
honest  answer  and  God  bless  you  and  let  it  be 
the  end.'  That  is  how  I  would  speak,  and  she 
would  think  about  it  for  a  week  or  perhaps  two, 
and  then  she  would  say  to  me,  (  Bastianello,  tell 
your  brother  that  I  will  have  him.'  Or  else  she 
would  say,  <  Bastianello,  tell  your  brother  that  I 


CHILDKEN    OF    THE    KING.  245 

thank  him,  but  that  I  have  no  heart  in  it.' 
That  is  what  she  would  say." 

"  It  may  be,"  said  Ruggiero  carelessly.  "  But 
of  course  she  would  thank,  and  say  6  Who  is 
this  Ruggiero  ? '  and  besides,  the  world  is  full  of 
women." 

Bastianello  was  about  to  ask  the  interpreta 
tion  of  this  rather  enigmatical  speech  when 
there  was  a  stir  on  the  pier  and  two  or  three 
boats  put  out,  the  men  standing  in  them  and 
sculling  them  stern  foremost. 

"Who  is  it?"  asked  Bastianello  of  the  boat 
man  who  passed  nearest  to  him. 

"  The  Giovannina,"  answered  the  man. 

She  had  returned  from  her  last  voyage  to 
Calabria,  having  taken  macaroni  from  Amalfi 
and  bringing  back  wine  of  Verbicaro.  A  fine 
boat,  the  Giovannina,  able  to  carry  twenty  tons 
in  any  weather,  and  water-tight  too,  being  decked 
with  hatches  over  which  you  can  stretch  and 
batten  down  tarpaulin.  A  pretty  sight  as  she 
ran  up  to  the  end  of  the  breakwater,  old  Luigi- 
one  standing  at  the  stern  with  the  tiller  between 
his  knees  and  the  slack  of  the  main-sheet  in  his 
hand.  She  was  running  wing  and  wing,  with 


246  CHILDREN    OF   THE    KING. 

her  bright  new  sails  spreading  far  over  the  water 
on  each  side.  Then  came  a  rattle  and  a  sharp 
creak  as  the  main-yard  swung  over  and  came 
down  on  deck,  .the  men  taking  in  the  bellying 
canvas  with  wide  open  arms  and  old  Luigione 
catching  the  end  of  the  yard  on  his  shoulder 
while  he  steered  with  his  knees,  his  great  gaunt 
profile  black  against  the  bright  sky.  Down 
foresail,  and  the  good  felucca  forges  ahead  and 
rounds  the  little  breakwater.  Let  go  the  anchor 
and  she  is  at  rest  after  her  long  voyage.  For 
the  season  has  not  been  good  and  she  has  been 
hauled  on  a  dozen  beaches  before  she  could  sell 
her  cargo.  The  men  are  all  as  brown  as  mahogany, 
and  as  lean  as  wolves,  for  it  has  been  a  voyage 
with  share  and  share  alike  for  all  the  crew  and 
they  have  starved  themselves  to  bring  home 
more  money  to  their  wives. 

Then  there  is  some  bustle  'and  confusion,  as 
Luigione  brings  the  papers  ashore  and  friends 
crowd  around  the  felucca  in  boats,  asking  for 
news  and  all  talking  at  once. 

"  We  have  been  in  your  town,  Ruggiero," 
said  one  of  the  men,  looking  down  into  the  little 
boat. 


CHILDREN    OF    THE    KING.  247 

"  I  hope  you  gave  a  messsage  from  me  to  Don 
Pietro  Casale,"  answered  Ruggiero. 

"Health  to  us,  Don  Pietro  is  dead/'  said  the 
man,  "  and  his  wife  is  not  likely  to  live  long 
either." 

"  Dead,  eh  ?  "  cried  Bastianello.  "  He  is  gone 
to  show  the  saints  the  nose  we  gave  him  when 
we  were  hoys." 

"We  can  go  back  to  Verbicaro  when  we 
please,"  observed  Ruggiero  with  a  smile. 

"Lend  a  hand  on  board,  will  you  ?"  said  the 
sailor. 

So  Ruggiero  made  the  boat  fast  with  the 
painter  and  both  brothers  scrambled  over  the 
side  of  the  felucca.  They  did  not  renew  their 
conversation  concerning  Teresina,  and  an  hour 
or  two  later  they  went  up  to  the  hotel  to  be  in 
readiness  for  their  masters,  should  the  latter  wish 
to  go  out.  Ruggiero  sat  down  on  a  bench  in 
the  garden,  but  Bastianello  went  into  the  house. 

In  the  corridor  outside  the  Marchesa's  rooms 
he  met  Teresina,  who  stopped  and  spoke  to  him 
as  she  always  did  when  she  met  him,  for  though 
she  admired  both  the  brothers,  she  liked  Bas 
tianello  better  than  she  knew  —  perhaps  because 


248  CHILDREN    OF    THE    KING. 

he  talked  more  and  seemed  to  have  a  gentler 
temper. 

"  Good-day,  Bastianello,"  she  said,  with  a 
bright  smile. 

"  And  good-day  to  you,  Teresina,"  answered 
Bastianello.  "  Can  you  tell  me  whether  the 
padroni  will  go  out  to-day  in  the  boat  ?  " 

"  I  think  they  will  not,"  answered  the  girl. 
"But  I  will  ask.  But  I  think  they  will  not, 
because  there  is  the  devil  in  the  house  to-day, 
and  the  Signorina  looks  as  though  she  would 
eat  us  all,  and  that  is  a  bad  sign." 

"What  has  happened?"  asked  Bastianello. 
"  You  can  tell  me,  because  I  will  tell  nobody." 

"  The  truth  is  this,"  answered  Teresina,  lower 
ing  her  voice.  "  They  have  betrothed  her  to 
the  Count,  and  she  does  not  like  it.  But  if  you 
say  anything  — ."  She  laughed  a  little  and 
shook  her  finger  at  him. 

Bastianello  threw  his  head  back  to  signify 
that  he  would  not  repeat  what  he  had  heard. 
Then  he  gazed  into  Teresina 's  eyes  for  a 
moment. 

"  The  Count  is  worse  than  an  animal,"  he 
said  quietly. 


CHILDREN    OF    THE    KING.  249 

"  If  you  knew  how  true  that  is  !  "  exclaimed 
Teresina,  blushing  deeply  and  turning  away. 
"I  will  ask  the  Marchesa  if  she  will  go  out/' 
she  added,  as  she  walked  quickly  away. 

Bastianello  waited  and  in  a  few  moments 
she  came  back. 

"  Not  to-day,"  she  said. 

"  So  much  the  better.  I  want  to  say  some 
thing  to  you,  Teresina.  Will  you  listen  to  me  ? 
Can  I  say  it  here  ? "  Bastianello  felt  unaccount 
ably  nervous,  and  when  he  had  spoken  he 
regretted  it. 

"I  hope  it  is  good  news,"  answered  the  girl. 
"  Come  to  the  window  at  the  end  of  the  corri 
dor.  We  shall  be  further  from  the  door  there, 
and  there  is  more  air.  Now  what  is  it?"  she 
asked  as  they  reached  the  place  she  had  chosen. 

"It  is  this,  Teresina,"  said  Bastianello,  sum 
moning  all  his  courage  for  what  was  the  most 
difficult  undertaking  of  his  life.  "  You  know 
my  brother  Ruggiero." 

"  Eh  !  I  should  think  so  !  I  see  him  every  day." 

"  Good.  He  also  sees  you  every  day,  and 
he  sees  how  beautiful  you  are,  and  now  he 
knows  how  good  you  are,  because  the  little  boy 


250  CHILDREN    OF    THE    KING. 

of  the  Son  of  the  Fool  saw  you  with  that  apo 
plexy  of  a  Count  in  the  garden  to-day,  and  heard 
what  you  said;  and  came  and  told  me,  and  I  told 
Ruggiero  because  I  knew  how  glad  he  would  be." 

"  Dio  mio  !  "  cried  Teresina.  She  had  blushed 
scarlet  while  he  was  speaking,  and  she  covered 
her  face  with  both  hands. 

"You  need  not  hide  your  face,  Teresina,"  said 
Bastianello,  with  a  little  emotion.  "You  can 
show  it  to  every  one  after  what  you  have  done. 
And  so  I  will  go  on,  and  you  must  listen.  Rug 
giero  is  not  a  great  signore  like  the  Count  of 
San  Miniato,  but  he  is  a  man.  And  he  has  two 
arms  which  are  good,  and  two  fists  as  hard  as 
an  ox's  hoofs,  and  he  can  break  horse-shoes  with 
his  hands." 

"Can  you  do  that?"  asked  Teresina  with  an 
admiring  look. 

"  Since  you  ask  me  —  yes,  I  can.  But  Rug 
giero  did  it  before  I  could,  and  showed  me  how, 
and  no  one  else  here  can  do  it  at  all.  And  more 
over  Ruggiero  is  a  quiet  man  and  does  not  drink 
nor  play  at  the  lotto,  and  there  is  no  harm  in  a 
game  of  beggar-my-neighbour  for  a  pipe  of  to 
bacco,  on  a  long  voyage  when  there  is  no  work 
to  be  done,  and  —  " 


CHILDREN    OF    THE    KING.  251 

"  Yes,  I  know,"  said  Teresina,  interrupting 
him.  "  You  are  very  much  alike,  you  too.  But 
what  has  this  about  Ruggiero  to  do  with  me, 
that  you  tell  me  it  all?" 

"  Who  goes  slowly,  goes  safely,  and  who  goes 
safely  goes  far,"  answered  Bastianello.  "  Listen 
to  me.  Ruggiero  has  also  seven  hundred  and 
sixty-three  francs  in  the  bank,  and  will  soon  have 
more,  because  he  saves  his  money  carefully, 
though  he  is  not  stingy.  And  Ruggiero,  if  you 
will  have  him,  will  work  for  you,  and  I  will  also 
work  for  you,  and  you  shall  have  a  good  house,  and 
plenty  to  eat  and  good  clothes  besides  the  gold  —  " 

"  But  Bastianello  mio  !  "  cried  Teresina,  who 
had  suspected  what  was  coming,  "  I  do  not  want 
to  marry  Ruggiero  at  all." 

She  clasped  her  hands  and  gazed  into  the 
sailor's  eyes  with  a  pretty  look  of  confusion  and 
regret. 

"  You  do  not  want  to  marry  Ruggiero ! " 
Bastianello's  expression  certainly  betrayed  more 
surprise  than  disappointment.  But  he  had  hon 
estly  pleaded  his  brother's  cause.  "Then  you 
do  not  love  him,"  he  said,  as  though  unable  to 
recover  from  his  astonishment. 


252  CHILDREN    OF    THE    KING. 

"  But  no  —  I  do  not  love  him  at  all,  though 
he  is  so  handsome  and  good." 

"  Madonna  mia!  "  exclaimed  Bastianello,  turn 
ing  sharply  round  and  moving  away  a  step  or 
two.  He  was  in  great  perturbation  of  spirit,  for 
he  loved  the  girl  dearly,  and  he  began  to  fear 
that  he  had  not  done  his  best  for  Ruggiero. 

"  But  you  did  love  him  a  few  days  ago,"  he 
said,  coming  back  to  Teresina's  side. 

"  Indeed,  I  never  did  !  "  she  said. 

"  Nor  any  one  else  ?  "  asked  Bastianello  sud 
denly. 

"  Eh !  I  did  not  say  that,"  answered  the  girl, 
blushing  a  little  and  looking  down. 

"  Well  do  not  tell  me  his  name,  because  I 
should  tell  Ruggiero,  and  Ruggiero  might  do 
him  an  injury.  It  is  better  not  to  tell  me." 

Teresina  laughed  a  little. 

"  I  shall  certainly  not  tell  you  who  he  is,"  she 
said.  "  You  can  find  that  out  for  yourself,  if 
you  take  the  trouble." 

"  It  is  better  not.  Either  Ruggiero  or  I  might 
hurt  him,  and  then  there  would  be  trouble." 

"  You,  too  ? " 

"  Yes,  I  too."      Bastianello  spoke  the  words 


CHILDREN    OF    THE    KING.  253 

rather  roughly  and  looked  fixedly  into  Teresina's 
eyes.  Since  she  did  not  love  Ruggiero?  why 
should  he  not  speak  ?  Yet  he  felt  as  though  he^ 
were  not  quite  loyal  to  his  brother. 

Teresina's  cheeks  grew  red  and  then  a  little 
pale.  She  twisted  the  cord  of  the  Venetian  blind 
round  and  round  her  hand,  looking  down  at  it 
all  the  time.  Bastianello  stood  motionless  before 
her,  staring  at  her  thick  black  hair. 

"  Well  ? "  asked  Teresina  looking  up  and  meet 
ing  his  eyes  and  then  lowering  her  own  quickly 
again. 

"What,  Teresina?"  asked  Bastianello  in  a 
changed  voice. 

"  You  say  you  also  might  do  that  man  an 
injury  whom  I  love.  I  suppose  that  is  because 
you  are  so  fond  of  your  brother.  Is  it  so?" 

"  Yes  —  and  also  —  " 

"  Bastianello,  do  you  love  me  too  ? "  she  asked 
in  a  very  low  tone,  blushing  more  deeply  than 
before. 

"  Yes.  I  do.  God  knows  it.  I  would  not 
have  said  it,  though.  Ah,  Teresina,  you  have 
made  a  traitor  of  me !  I  have  betrayed  my 
brother  —  and  for  what  ?  " 


254  CHILDREN    OF    THE    KING. 

"  For  me,  Bastianello.  But  you  have  not  be 
trayed  him." 

"  Since  you  do  not  love  him  — "  began  the 
sailor  in  a  tone  of  doubt. 

"  Not  him,  but  another." 

"  And  that  other  —  " 

"  It  is  perhaps  you,  Bastianello,"  said  Tere- 
sina,  growing  rather  pale  again. 

"Me!"  He  could  only  utter  the  one  word 
just  then. 

"Yes,  you." 

"My  love!"  Bastianello' s  arm  went  gently 
round  her,  and  he  whispered  the  words  in  her 
ear.  She  let  him  hold  her  so  without  resistance, 
and  looked  up  into  his  face  with  happy  eyes. 

"  Yes,  your  love  —  did  you  never  guess  it, 
dearest  ? "  She  was  blushing  still,  and  smiling 
at  the  same  time,  and  her  voice  sounded  sweet 
to  Bastianello. 

Only  a  sailor  and  a  serving-maid,  but  both 
honest  and  both  really  loving.  There  was  not 
much  eloquence  about  the  courtship,  as  there  had 
been  about  San  Miniato's,  and  there  was  not  the 
fierce  passion  in  Bastianello's  breast  that  was 
eating  up  his  brother's  heart.  Yet  Beatrice,  at 


CHILDREN    OF    THE    KING.  255 

least,  would  have  changed  places  with  Teresina 
if  she  could,  and  San  Miniato  could  have  held 
his  head  higher  if  there  had  ever  been  as  much 
honesty  in  him  as  there  was  in  Bastianello's 
every  thought  and  action. 

For  Bastianello  was  very  loyal,  though  he 
thought  badly  enough  of  his  own  doings,  and 
when  Beatrice  called  Teresina  away  a  few  min 
utes  later,  he  marched  down  the  corridor  with 
resolute  steps,  meaning  not  to  lose  a  moment  in 
telling  Ruggiero  the  whole  truth,  how  he  had 
honestly  said  the  best  things  he  could  for  him 
and  had  asked  Teresina  to  marry  him,  and  how 
he,  Bastianello,  had  been  betrayed  into  declaring 
his  love,  and  had  found,  to  his  amazement,  that 
he  was  loved  in  return. 

Ruggiero  was  sitting  alone  on  one  of  the  stone 
pillars  on  the  little  pier,  gazing  at  the  sea,  or 
rather,  at  a  vessel  far  away  towards  Ischia,  run 
ning  down  the  bay  with  every  stitch  of  canvas 
set  from  her  jibs  to  her  royals.  He  looked  round 
as  Bastianello  came  up  to  him. 

"  Ruggiero,"  said  the  latter  in  a  quiet  tone. 
"  If  you  want  to  kill  me,  you  may,  for  I  have 
betrayed  you." 


256  CHILDREN    OF    THE    KING. 

Euggiero  stared  at  him,  to  see  whether  he  were 
in  earnest  or  joking. 

"  Betrayed  me  ?  I  do  not  understand  what 
you  say.  How  could  you  betray  me  ? " 

"  As  you  shall  know.  Now  listen.  We  were 
talking  about  Teresina  to-day,  you  and  I.  Then 
I  said  to  myself,  '  I  love  Teresina  and  Ruggiero 
loves  her,  but  Ruggiero  is  first.  I  will  go  to 
Teresina  and  ask  her  if  she  will  marry  him,  and 
if  she  will,  it  is  well.  But  if  she  will  not,  I  will 
ask  Ruggiero  if  I  may  court  her  for  myself.' 
And  so  I  did.  And  she  will  tell  you  the  truth, 
and  I  spoke  well  for  you.  But  she  said  she 
never  loved  you.  And  then,  I  do  not  know  how 
it  was,  but  we  found  out  that  we  loved  each 
other  and  we  said  so.  And  that  is  the  truth. 
So  you  had  better  get  a  pig  of  iron  from  the 
ballast  and  knock  me  on  the  head,  for  I  have 
betrayed  my  brother  and  I  do  not  want  to  live 
any  more,  and  I  shall  say  nothing." 

Then  Ruggiero  who  had  not  laughed  much 
for  some  time,  felt  that  his  mouth  was  twitching 
under  his  yellow  beard,  and  presently  his  great 
shoulders  began  to  move,  and  his  chest  heaved, 
and  his  handsome  head  went  back,  and  at  last  it 


CHILDREN    OF    THE    KING.  257 

came  out,  a  mighty  peal  of  Homeric  laughter  that 
echoed  and  rolled  down  the  pier  and  rang  clear 
and  full,  up  to  the  Marchesa's  terrace.  And  it 
chanced  that  Beatrice  was  there,  and  she  looked 
down  and  saw  that  it  was  Ruggiero.  Then  she 
sighed  and  drew  back. 

But  Bastianello  did  not  understand,  and  when 
the  laugh  subsided  at  last,  he  said  so. 

"I  laughed  —  yes.  I  could  not  help  it.  But 
you  are  a  good  brother,  and  very  honest,  and 
when  you  want  to  marry  Teresina,  you  may 
have  my  savings,  and  I  do  not  care  to  be  paid 
back." 

"  But  I  do  not  understand,"  repeated  Bastia 
nello,  in  the  greatest  bewilderment.  "  You  loved 
her  so  —  " 

"Teresina?  No.  I  never  loved  Teresina,  but 
I  never  knew  you  did,  or  I  would  not  have  let 
you  believe  it.  It  is  much  more  I  who  have 
cheated  you,  Bastianello,  and  when  you  and 
Teresina  are  married  .1  will  give  you  half  my 
earnings,  just  as  I  now  put  them  in  the  bank." 

"God  be  blessed!"  exclaimed  Bastianello, 
touching  his  cap,  and  staring  at  the  same  vessel 
that  had  attracted  Ruggiero' s  attention. 


258  CHILDREN    OF    THE    KING. 

"  She  carries  royal  studding-sails/'  observed 
Ruggiero.  "  You  do  not  often  see  that  in  our 
part  of  the  world." 

"That  is  true,"  said  Bastianello.  "But  I  was 
not  thinking  of  her,  when  I  looked.  And  I 
thank  you  for  what  you  say,  Ruggiero,  and  with 
my  heart.  And  that  is  enough,  because  it  seems 
that  we  know  each  other." 

"  We  have  been  in  the  same  crew  once  or 
twice,"  said  Ruggiero. 

"It  seems  to  me  that  we  have,"  answered  his 
brother. 

Neither  of  the  two  smiled,  for  they  meant  a 
good  deal  by  the  simple  jest. 

"Tell  me,  Ruggiero,"  said  Bastianello  after 
a  pause,  "  since  you  never  loved  Teresina,  who 

*          "  L    0   " 

IS  it  ( 

"  No,  Bastianello.  That  is  what  I  cannot  tell 
any  one,  not  even  you." 

"  Then  I  will  not  ask.     But  I  think  I  know, 


now." 


Going  over  the  events  of -the  past  weeks  in  his 
mind,  it  had  suddenly  flashed  upon  Bastianello 
that  his  brother  loved  Beatrice.  Then  every 
thing  explained  itself  in  an  instant.  Ruggiero 


CHILDREN    OF    THE    KING.  259 

was  such  a  gentleman  —  in  Bastianello's  eyes, 
of  course  —  it  was  like  him  to  break  his  heart 
for  a  real  lady. 

"  Perhaps  you  do  know,"  answered  Ruggiero 
gravely,  "but  if  you  do,  then  do  not  tell  me. 
It  is  a  business  better  not  spoken  of.  But  what 
one  thinks,  one  thinks.  And  that  is  enough." 

A  crowd  of  brown-skinned  boys  were  in  the 
water  swimming  and  playing,  as  they  do  all  day 
long  in  summer,  and  dashing  spray  at  each  other. 
They  had  a  shabby-looking  old  skiff  with  which 
they  amused  themselves,  upsetting  and  righting 
it  again  in  the  shallow  water  by  the  beach  beyond 
the  bathing  houses. 

"What  a  boat!"  laughed  Bastianello.  "A 
baby  can  upset  her  and  it  takes  a  dozen  boys  to 
right  her  again !  " 

"  Whose  is  she  ?  "  enquired  Ruggiero  idly,  as  he 
filled  his  pipe. 

"  She  ?  She  belonged  to  Black  Rag's  brother, 
the  one  who  was  drowned  last  Christmas  Eve, 
when  the  Leone  was  cut  in  two  by  the  steamer 
in  the  Mouth  of  Procida.  I  suppose  she  belongs 
to  Black  Rag  himself  now.  She  is  a  crazy  old 
craft,  but  if  he  were  clever  he  could  patch  her 


260  CHILDREN    OF    THE    KING. 

up  and  paint  her  and  take  foreigners  to  the  Cape 
in  her  on  fine  days." 

"That  is  true.  Tell  him  so.  There  he  is. 
Ohe!  Black  Rag!" 

Black  Rag  came  down  the  pier  to  the  two 
brothers,  a  middle-aged,  bow-legged,  leathery 
fellow  with  a  ragged  grey  beard  and  a  weather- 
beaten  face. 

"What  do  you  want?"  he  asked,  stopping 
before  them  with  his  hands  in  his  pockets. 

"Bastianello  says  that  old  tub  there  is  yours, 
and  that  if  you  had  a  better  head  than  you  have 
you  could  caulk  her  and  paint  her  white  with  a 
red  stripe  and  take  foreigners  to  the  Bath  of 
Queen  Giovanna  in  her  on  fine  days.  Why  do 
you  not  try  it  ?  Those  boys  are  making  her  die 
an  evil  death." 

"  Bastianello  always  has  such  thoughts ! " 
laughed  the  sailor.  "  Why  does  he  not  buy  her 
of  me  and  paint  her  himself  ?  The  paint  would 
hold  her  together  another  six  months,  I  daresay." 

"  Give  her  to  me,"  said  Ruggiero.  "  I  will 
give  you  half  of  what  I  earn  with  her." 

Black  Rag  looked  at  him  and  laughed,  not 
believing  that  he  was  in  earnest.  But  Ruggiero 


CHILDREN    OF    THE    KING.  261 

slowly  nodded  his  head  as  though  to  conclude  a 
bargain. 

"  I  will  sell  her  to  you/'  said  the  sailor  at  last. 
"  She  belonged  to  that  blessed  soul,  my  brother, 
who  was  drowned  —  health  to  us  —  to-day  is 
Saturday  —  and  I  never  earned  anything  with 
her  since  she  was  mine.  I  will  sell  her  cheap." 

"  How  much  ?  I  will  give  you  thirty  francs 
for  her." 

Bastianello  stared  at  his  brother,  but  he  made 
no  remark  while  the  bargain  was  being  made, 
nor  even  when  Ruggiero  finally  closed  for  fifty 
francs,  paid  the  money  down  and  proceeded  to 
take  possession  of  the  old  tub  at  once,  to  the 
infinite  and  forcibly  expressed  regret  of  the  lads 
who  had  been  playing  with  her.  Then  the  two 
brothers  hauled  her  up  upon  the  sloping  cement 
slip  between  the  pier  and  the  bathing  houses, 
and  turned  her  over.  The  boys  swam  away, 
and  Black  Rag  departed  with  his  money. 

"  What  have  you  bought  her  for,  Ruggiero  ?  " 
asked  Bastianello. 

"  She  has  copper  nails,"  observed  the  other 
examining  the  bottom  carefully.  "  She  is  worth 
fifty  francs.  Your  thought  was  good.  To-morrow 


262  CHILDREN    OF    THE    KING. 

she  will  be  dry  and  we  will  caulk  the  seams, 
and  the  next  day  we  will  paint  her  and  then  we 
can  take  foreigners  to  the  Cape  in  her  if  we 
have  a  chance  and  the  signori  do  not  go  out. 
Lend  a  hand,  Bastianello  ;  we  must  haul  her  up 
behind  the  boats." 

Bastianello  said  nothing  and  the  two  strong 
men  almost  carried  the  old  tub  to  a  convenient 
place  for  working  at  her. 

"  Do  you  want  to  do  anything  more  to  her 
to-night  ?  "  asked  Bastianello. 

"No." 

"  Then  I  will  go  up." 

"Very  well." 

Ruggiero  smiled  as  he  spoke,  for  he  knew  that 
Bastianello  was  going  to  try  and  get  another 
glimpse  of  Teresina.  The  ladies  would  probably 
go  to  drive  and  Teresina  would  be  free  until  they 
came  back. 

He  sat  down  on  a  boat  near  the  one  he  had 
just  bought,  and  surveyed  his  purchase.  He 
seemed  on  the  whole  well  satisfied.  It  was 
certainly  good  enough  for  the  foreigners  who 
liked  to  be  pulled  up  to  the  cape  on  summer 
evenings.  She  was  rather  easily  upset,  as 


CHILDREN    OF    THE    KING.  263 

Ruggiero  had  noticed,  but  a  couple  of  bags  of 
pebbles  in  the  right  place  would  keep  her  steady 
enough,  and  she  had  room  for  three  or  four 
people  in  the  stern  sheets  and  for  two  men  to 
pull.  Not  bad  for  fifty  francs,  thought  Ruggiero. 
And  San  Miniato  had  asked  about  going  after 
crabs  by  torchlight.  This  would  be  the  very 
boat  for  the  purpose,  for  getting  about  in  and 
out  of  the  rocks  on  which  the  crabs  swarm  at 
night.  Black  Rag  might  have  earned  money 
with  her.  But  Black  Rag  was  rather  a  worthless 
fellow,  who  drank  too  much  wine,  played  too 
much  at  the  public  lottery  and  wasted  his  sub 
stance  on  trifles. 

Ruggiero' s  purchase  was  much  discussed  that 
evening  and  all  the  next  day  by  the  sailors  of 
the  Piccola  Marina.  Some  agreed  that  he  had 
done  well,  and  some  said  that  he  had  made  a 
mistake,  but  Ruggiero  said  nothing  and  paid  no 
attention  to  the  gossips.  On  the  next  day  and 
the  day  after  that  he  was  at  work  before  dawn 
with  Bastianello,  and  Black  Rag  was  very  much 
surprised  at  the  trim  appearance  of  his  old  boat 
when  the  brothers  at  last  put  her  into  the  water 
and  pulled  themselves  round  the  little  harbour 


264  CHILDREN    OF    THE    KING. 

to  see  whether  the  seams  were  all  tight.  But 
he  pretended  to  put  a  good  face  on  the  matter, 
and  explained  that  there  were  more  rotten 
planks  in  her  than  any  one  knew  of  and  that 
only  the  nails  below  the  water  line  were  copper 
after  all,  and  he  predicted  a  short  life  for  Num 
ber  Fifty  Seven,  when  Ruggiero  renewed  the  old 
licence  in  the  little  harbour  office.  Ruggiero, 
however,  cared  for  none  of  these  things,  but 
ballasted  the  tub  properly  with  bags  of  pebbles 
and  demonstrated  to  the  crowd  that  she  was 
no  longer  easy  to  upset,  inviting  any  one  who 
pleased  to  stand  on  the  gunwale  and  try. 

"  But  the  ballast  makes  her  heavy  to  pull," 
objected  Black  Rag,  as  he  looked  on. 

"  If  you  had  arms  like  the  Children  of  the 
King,"  retorted  the  Cripple,  "you  would  not 
trouble  yourself  about  a  couple  of  hundred 
weight  more  or  less.  But  you  have  not.  So 
you  had  better  go  and  play  three  numbers  at 
the  lottery,  the  day  of  the  month,  the  number 
of  the  boat  and  any  other  one  that  you  like.  In 
that  way  you  may  still  make  a  little  money  if  you 
have  luck.  For  you  have  made  a  bad  bargain 
with  the  Children  of  the  King,  and  you  know  it." 


CHILDREN    OF    THE    KING.  265 

Black  Rag  was  much  struck  by  the  idea  and 
promptly  went  up  to  the  town  to  invest  his 
spare  cash  in  the  three  numbers,  taking  his 
own  age  for  the  third.  As  luck  would  have  it 
the  two  first  numbers  actually  turned  up  and 
he  won  thirty  francs  that  week,  which,  as  he 
justly  observed,  brought  the  price  of  the  boat 
up  to  eighty.  For  if  he  had  not  sold  her 
he  would  never  have  played  the  numbers  at 
all,  and  no  one  pretended  that  she  was  worth 
more  than  eighty  francs,  if  as  much. 

Then,  one  morning,  San  Miniato  found  Rug- 
giero  waiting  outside  his  door  when  he  came 
out.  The  sailor  grew  leaner  and  more  silent 
every  day,  but  San  Miniato  seemed  to  grow 
stouter  and  more  talkative. 

"  If  you  would  like  to  go  after  crabs  this 
evening,  Excellency,"  said  the  former,  "  the 
weather  is  good  and  they  are  swarming  on  the 
rocks  everywhere." 

"  What  does  one  do  with  them  ?  "  asked  San 
Miniato.  •  "  Are  they  good  to  eat  ?  " 

"  One  knows  that,  Excellency.  We  put  them 
into  a  kettle  with  milk,  and  they  drink  all  the 
milk  in  the  night  and  the  next  day  they  are  good 
to  cook." 


266  CHILDREN    OF    THE    KING. 

"  Can  we  take  the  ladies,  Euggiero  ?" 

"  In  the  sail  boat,  Excellency,  and  then,  if  you 
like,  you  and  the  Signorina  can  go  with  me  in 
the  little  one  with  my  brother,  and  I  will  pull 
while  Bastianello  and  your  Excellency  take  the 
crabs." 

"  Very  well.  Then  get  a  small  boat  ready  for 
to-night,  Euggiero." 

"  I  have  one  of  my  own,  Excellency." 

"  So  much  the  better.  If  the  ladies  will  not 
go,  you  and  I  can  go  alone." 

"  Yes,  Excellency." 

San  Miniato  wondered  why  Euggiero  was  so 
pale. 


CHAPTER  XI.. 

AGAIN  the  mother  and  daughter  were  to 
gether  in  the  cool  shade  of  their  terrace.  Out 
side,  it  was  very  hot,  for  the  morning  breeze  did 
not  yet  stir  the  brown  linen  curtains  which  kept 
out  the  glare  of  the  sea,  and  myriads  of  locusts 
were  fiddling  their  eternal  two  notes  without 
pause  or  change  of  pitch,  in  every  garden  from 
Massa  to  Scutari  point,  which  latter  is  the  great 
bluff  from  which  they  quarry  limestone  for  road 
making,  and  which  shuts  off  the  amphitheatre 
of  Sorrento  from  the  view  of  Castellamare  to 
eastward.  The  air  was  dry,  hot  and  full  of 
life  and  sound,  as  it  is  in  the  far  south  in 
summer. 

"  And  when  do  you  propose  to  marry  me  ?  " 
asked  Beatrice  in  a  discontented  tone. 

"Dearest  child,"  answered  her  mother,  "you 
speak  as  though  I  were  marrying  you  by  force  to 
a  man  whom  you -detest." 

"  That  is  exactly  what  you  are  doing." 

267 


268  CHILDREN    OF    THE    KING. 

The  Marchesa  raised  her  eyebrows,  fanned 
herself  lazily  and  smiled. 

"  Are  we  to  begin  the  old  argument  every 
morning,  my  dear  ?  "  she  asked.  "  It  always  ends 
in  the  same  way,  and  you  always  say  the  same 
dreadful  things  to  me.  I  really  cannot  bear  it 
much  longer.  You  know  very  well  that  you 
bound  yourself,  and  that  you  were  quite  free  to 
tell  San  Miniato  that  you  did  not  care  for  him. 
A  girl  should  know  her  own  mind  before  she 
tells  a  man  she  loves  him  —  just  as  a  man 
should  before  he  speaks." 

"  San  Miniato  certainly  knows  his  own  mind," 
retorted  Beatrice  viciously.  "  No  one  can  accuse 
him  of  not  being  ready  and  anxious  to  marry 
me  —  and  my  fortune." 

"  How  you  talk,  my  angel !  Of  course  if  you 
had  no  fortune,  or  much  less  than  you  have,  he 
could  not  think  of  marrying  you.  That  is  clear. 
I  never  pretended  the  contrary.  But  that  does 
not  contradict  the  fact  that  he  loves  you  to 
distraction,  if  that  is  what  you  want." 

"  To  distraction ! "  repeated  Beatrice  with  scorn. 

"  Why  not,  dearest  child  ?  Do  you  think  a 
man  cannot  love  because  he  is  poor  ?  " 


CHILDREN    OF    THE    KING.  269 

"  That  is  not  the  question,  mamma !  "  cried 
Beatrice  impatiently.  "  You  know  it  is  not.  But 
no  woman  can  be  deceived  twice  by  the  same 
comedy,  and  few  would  be  deceived  once.  You 
know  as  well  as  I  that  it  was  all  a  play  the  other 
night,  that  he  was  trying  to  find  words,  as  he 
was  trying  to  find  sentiments,  and  that  when  the 
words  would  not  be  found  he  thought  it  would 
be  efficacious  to  seize  my  hand  and  kiss  it.  I 
daresay  he  thought  I  believed  him  —  of  course  he 
did.  But  not  for  long  —  oh !  not  for  long.  Real 
love  finds  even  fewer  words,  but  it  finds  them 
better,  and  the  ring  of  them  is  truer,  and  one 
remembers  them  longer'!  " 

"Beatrice  !  "  exclaimed  the  Marchesa.  "  What 
can  you  know  of  such  things !  You  talk  as 
though  some  man  had  dared  to  speak  to 
you-" 

"Do  I  ?  "  asked  the  girl  with  sudden  coldness, 
and  a  strange  look  came  into  her  eyes,  which 
her  mother  did  not  see. 

"  Yes,  you  do.  And  yet  I  know  that  it  is  im 
possible.  Besides  the  whole  discussion  is  .useless 
and  wears  me  out,  though  it  seems  to  interest 
you.  Of  course  you  will  marry  San  Miniato. 


270  CHILDKEN    OF    THE    KING. 

When  you  have  got  past  this  absurd  humour 
you  will  see  what  a  good  husband  you  have 
got,  and  you  will  be  very  happy." 

"Happy!  With  that  man!"  Beatrice's  lip 
curled. 

"  You  will,"  answered  her  mother,  taking  no 
notice.  "  Happiness  depends  upon  two  things  in 
this  world,  when  marriage  is  concerned.  Money 
and  a  good  disposition.  You  have  both,  between 
you,  and  you  will  be  happy." 

"  I  never  heard  anything  more  despicable !  " 
cried  the  young  girl.  "  Money  and  disposition  ! 
And  what  becomes  of  the  heart  ?  " 

The  Marchesa  smiled  and  fanned  herself. 

"Young  girls  without  experience  cannot  under 
stand  these  things,"  she  said.  "Wait  till  you 
are  older." 

"  And  lose  what  looks  I  have  and  the  power 
to  enjoy  anything !  And  you  say  that  you  are 
not  forcing  me  into  this  marriage !  And  you 
try  to  think,  or  to  make  me  think,  that  it  is  all 
for  the  best,  and  all  delightful  and  all  easy,  when 
you  are  sacrificing  me  and  my  youth  and  my 
life  and  my  happiness  to  the  mere  idea  of  a 
better  position  in  society  —  because  poor  papa 


CHILDREN    OF    THE    KING.  271 

was  a  sulphur  merchant  and  bought  a  title 
which  was  only  confirmed  because  he  spent  a 
million  on  a  public  charity  —  and  every  one 
knows  it  —  and  the  Count  of  San  Miniato  comes 
of  people  who  have  been  high  and  mighty  gentle 
men  for  six  or  seven  hundred  years,  more  or 
less.  That  is  your  point  of  view,  and  you  know 
it.  But  if  I  say  that  my  father  worked  hard 
to  get  what  he  got  and  deserved  it,  and  was 
an  honest  man,  and  that  this  great  personage  of 
San  Miniato  is  a  penniless  gambler,  who  does 
not  know  to-day  where  he  will  find  pocket 
money  for  to-morrow,  and  has  got  by  a  trick  the 
fortune  my  father  got  by  hard  work  —  then  you 
will  not  like  it.  Then  you  will  throw  up  your 
hands  and  cry  '  Beatrice  ! '  Then  you  will  tell 
me  that  he  loves  me  to  distraction,  and  you  will 
even  try  to  make  me  think  that  I  love  him.  It 
is  all  a  miserable  sham,  mamma,  a  vile  miserable 
sham !  Give  it  up.  I  have  said  that  I  will 
marry  him,  since  it  appears  that  I  have  prom 
ised.  But  do  not  try  to  make  me  think  that  I 
am  marrying  him  of  my  own  free  will,  or  he 
marrying  me  out  of  disinterested,  pure,  beautiful, 
upright  affection !  " 


272  CHILDREN    OF    THE    KING. 

Having  delivered  herself  of  these  particularly 
strong  sentiments,  Beatrice  was  silent  for  a 
while.  As  for  the  Marchesa,  she  was  either  too 
wise,  or  too  lazy,  to  answer  her  daughter  for 
the  present  and  she  slowly  fanned  herself,  lying 
quite  still  in  her  long  chair,  her  eyes  half  closed 
and  her  left  hand  hanging  down  beside  her. 

Indeed  Beatrice,  instead  of  becoming  more 
reconciled  with  the  situation  she  had  accepted, 
was  growing  more  impatient  and  unhappy  every 
day,  as  she  realised  all  that  her  marriage  with 
San  Miniato  would  mean  during  the  rest  of  her 
natural  life.  She  had  quite  changed  her  mind 
about  him,  and  with  natures  like  hers  such 
sudden  changes  are  often  irrevocable.  She  could 
not  now  understand  how  she  could  have  ever 
liked  him,  or  found  pleasure  in  his  society,  and 
when  she  thought  of  the  few  words  she  had 
spoken  and  which  had  decided  her  fate,  she 
could  not  comprehend  the  state  of  mind  which 
had  led  her  into  such  a  piece  of  folly,  and  she 
was  as  angry  with  herself  as,  for  the  time  being, 
she  was  angry  with  all  the  world  besides. 

She  saw,  too,  and  for  the  first  time,  how 
lonely  she  was  in  the  world,  and  a  deep  and 


CHILDREN    OF    THE    KING.  273 

burning  longing  for  real  love  and  sympathy 
took  possession  of  her.  She  had  friends,  of 
course,  as  young  girls  have,  of  much  her  own 
age  and  not  unlike  her  in  their  inexperienced 
ideas  of  life.  But  there  was  not  one  of  them 
at  Sorrento,  nor  had  she  met  any  one  among 
the  many  acquaintances  she  had  made,  to  whom 
she  would  care  to  turn.  Even  her  own  intimate 
associates  from  childhood,  who  were  far  away  in 
Sicily,  or  travelling  elsewhere,  would  not  have 
satisfied  her.  They  could  not  have  understood 
her,  their  answers  to  her  questions  would  have 
seemed  foolish  and  worthless,  and  they  would 
have  tormented  her  with  questions  of  their  own, 
inopportune,  importunate,  tiresome.  She  her 
self  did  not  know  that  what  she  craved  was 
the  love  or  the  friendship  of  one  strong,  honest 
man. 

It  was  strange  to  find  out  suddenly  how  wide 
was  the  breach  which  separated  her  from  her 
mother,  with  whom  she  had  lived  so  happily 
throughout  her  childhood  and  early  youth, 
with  whom  she  had  agreed  —  or  rather,  who 
had  agreed  with  her  —  on  the  whole  almost 
without  a  discussion.  It  was  hard  to  find  in 


274  CHILDREN    OF    THE    KING. 

her  now  so  little  warmth  of  heart,  so  little 
power  to  understand,  above  all  such  a  display 
of  determination  and  such  quiet  force  in  argu 
ment.  Very  indolent  women  are  sometimes 
very  deceptive  in  regard  to  the  will  they  hold 
in  reserve,  but  Beatrice  could  not  have  believed 
that  her  mother  could  influence  her  as  she  had 
done.  She  reflected  that  it  had  surely  been 
within  the  limits  of  the  Marchesa's  choice  to 
take  her  daughter's  side  so  soon  as  she  had  seen 
that  the  latter  had  mistaken  her  own  feelings. 
She  need  not  have  agreed  with  San  Miniato,  on 
that  fatal  evening  at  Tragara,  that  the  marriage 
was  definitely  settled,  until  she  had  at  least 
exchanged  a  word  with  Beatrice  herself. 

The  future  looked  black  enough  on  that  hot 
summer  morning.  The  girl  was  to  be  tied  for 
life  to  a  man  she  despised  and  hated,  to  a  man 
who  did  not  even  care  for  her,  as  she  was  now 
convinced,  to  a  man  with  a  past  of  which  she 
knew  little  and  of  which  the  few  incidents  she 
had  learned  repelled  her  now,  instead  of  attract 
ing  her.  She«  fancied  how  he  had  spoken  to 
those  other  women,  much  as  he  had  spoken  to 
her,  perhaps  a  little  more  eloquently  as,  per- 


CHILDREN    OF    THE    KING.  275 

haps,  he  had  not  been  thinking  of  their  fortunes 
but  of  themselves,  but  still  always  in  that  high- 
comedy  tone  with  the  studied  gesture  and  the 
cadenced  intonation.  She  did  not  know  whether 
they  deserved  her  pity,  those  two  whom  he  pre 
tended  to  have  loved,  but  she  was  ready  to  pity 
them,  nameless  as  they  were.  The  one  was  dead, 
the  other,  at  least,  had  been  wise  enough  to  for 
get  him  in  time. 

Then  she  thought  of  what  must  happen  after 
her  marriage,  when  he  had  got  her  fortune  and 
could  take  her  away  to  the  society  in  which  lie 
had  always  lived.  There,  of  course,  he  would 
meet  women  by  the  score  with  whom  he  was  and 
long  had  been  on  terms  of  social  intimacy  far 
closer  than  he  had  reached  with  her  in  the 
few  weeks  of  their  acquaintance.  Doubtless,  he 
would  spend  such  time  as  he  could  spare  from 
gambling,  in  conversation  with  them.  Doubt 
less,  he  had  many  thoughts  and  memories  and 
associations  in  common  with  them.  Doubtless, 
people  would  smile  a  little  and  pity  the  young 
countess.  And  Beatrice  resented  pity  and  the 
thought  of  it.  She  would  rather  pity  others. 

Evil  thoughts  crossed  her  young  brain,  and 


276  CHILDREN    OF    THE    KING. 

she  said  to  herself  that  she  might  perhaps  be 
revenged  upon  the  world  for  what  she  was 
suffering,  for  the  pain  that  had  already  come 
into  her  young  life,  for  the  wretched  years 
she  anticipated  in  the  future,  for  her  mother's 
horrible  logic  which  had  forced  her  into  the 
marriage,,  above  all  for  San  Miniato's  cleverly 
arranged  scene  by  which  the  current  of  her 
existence  had  been  changed.  San  Miniato  had 
perhaps  gone  too  far  when  he  had  said  that 
Beatrice  was  kind.  She,  at  least,  felt  that  there 
was  anything  but  kindness  in  her  heart  now, 
and  she  desired  nothing  so  much  as  to  make 
some  one  suffer  something  of  what  she  felt.  It 
was  wicked,  doubtless,  as  she  admitted  to  herself. 
It  was  bad  and  wrong  and  cruel,  but  it  was  not 
heartless.  A  woman  without  heart  would  not 
have  felt  enough  to  resent  having  felt  at  all,  and 
moreover  would  probably  be  perfectly  well  satis 
fied  with  the  situation. 

The  expression  of  hardness  deepened  in  the 
young  girl's  face  as  she  sat  there,  silently  think 
ing  over  all  that  was  to  come,  and  glancing  from 
time  to  time  at  her  mother's  placid  countenance. 
It  was  really  amazing  to  see  how  much  the 


CHILDREN    OF    THE    KING,  277 

Marchesa  could  bear  when  she  was  actually 
roused  to  a  sense  of  the  necessity  for  action. 
Her  constitution  must  have  been  far  stronger 
than  any  one  supposed.  She  must  indeed  have 
been  in  considerable  anxiety  about  the  success  of 
her  plans,  more  than  once  during  the  past  few 
days.  Yet  she  was  outwardly  almost  as  un 
ruffled  and  as  lazy  as  ever. 

"  Dearest  child,"  she  said  at  last,  "  of  course, 
as  I  have  said,  I  cannot  argue  the  point  with 
you.  No  one  could,  in  your  present  state  of 
mind.  But  there  is  one  thing  which  I  must  say, 
and  which  I  am  sure  you  will  be  quite  ready  to 
understand." 

Beatrice  said  nothing,  but  slowly  turned  her 
head  towards  her  mother  with  a  look  of  in 
quiry. 

"  I  only  want  to  say,  my  angel,  that  whatever 
you  may  think  of  San  Miniato,  and  however 
much  you  may  choose  to  let  him  know  what 
you  think,  it  may  be  quite  possible  to  act  with 
more  civility  than  you  have  used  during  the 
last  few  days." 

"  Is  that  all  ?  "  asked  Beatrice  with  a  hard 
laugh.  "  How  nicely  you  turn  your  phrases 


278  CHILDREN"    OF    THE    KING. 

when  you  lecture  me,  mamma  !  So  you  wish  me 
to  be  civil.  Very  well,  I  will  try." 

"  Thank  you,  Beatrice  carissima,"  answered 
her  mother  with  a  sigh  and  a  gentle  smile.  "  It 
will  make  life  so  much  easier." 

Again  there  was  a  long  silence,  and  Beatrice 
sat  motionless  in  her  chair,  debating  whether  she 
should  wait  where  she  was  until  San  Miniato 
came,  as  he  was  sure  to  do  before  long,  or 
whether  she  should  go  to  her  room  arid  write  a 
letter  to  some  intimate  friend,  which  would  of 
course  never  be  sent,  or,  lastly,  whether  she 
should  not  take  Teresina  and  go  down  to  her 
bath  in  the  sea  before  the  midday  breakfast. 
While  she  was  still  hesitating,  San  Miniato 
arrived. 

There  was  something  peculiarly  irritating  to 
her  in  his  appearance  on  that  morning.  He  was 
arrayed  in  perfectly  new  clothes  of  light  gray, 
which  fitted  him  admirably.  He  wore  shoes  of 
untanned  leather  which  seemed  to  be  perfectly 
new  also,  and  reflected  the  light  as  though  they 
were  waxed.  His  stiff  collar  was  like  porcelain, 
the  single  pearl  he  wore  in  his  white  scarf  was 
so  perfect  that  it  might  have  been  false.  His 


CHILDREN    OF    THE    KING.  279 

light  hair  and  moustache  were  very  smoothly 
brushed  and  combed  and  his  face  was  exasperat- 
ingly  sleek.  There  was  a  look  of  conscious 
security  about  him,  of  overwhelming  correctness 
and  good  taste,  of  pride  in  himself  and  in  his 
success,  which  Beatrice  felt  to  be  almost  more 
than  she  could  bear  with  equanimity.  He  bent 
gracefully  over  the  Marchesa's  hand  and  bowed 
low  to  the  young  girl,  not  supposing  that  hers 
would  be  offered  to  him.  In  this  he  was  mistaken, 
however,  for  she  gave  him  the  ends  of  her  fingers. 

"  Good  morning,"  she  said  gently. 

The  Marchesa  looked  at  her,  for  she  had  not 
expected  that  she  would  speak  first  and  certainly 
not  in  so  gentle  a  tone.  San  Miniato  inquired 
how  the  two  ladies  had  slept. 

"Admirably,"  said  Beatrice. 

«Ali  —  as  for  me,  dearest  friend,"  said  the 
Marchesa,  "  you  know  what  a  nervous  creature 
I  am.  T  never  sleep." 

"  You  look  as  though  you  had  rested  wonder 
fully  well,"  observed  Beatrice  to  San  Miniato. 
"  Half  a  century,  at  least ! " 

"Do  I?"  asked  the  Count,  delighted  by  her 
manner  and  quite  without  suspicion. 


280  CHILDREN    OF    THE    KING. 

"  Yes.     You  look  twenty  years  younger." 

"About  ten  years  old?  "  suggested  San  Miniato 
with  a  smile. 

"  Oh  no !  I  did  not  mean  that.  You  look 
about  twenty,  I  should  say." 

"  I  am  charmed,"  he  answered,  without  winc 
ing. 

"  It  may  be  only  those  beautiful  new  clothes 
you  have  on,"  said  Beatrice  with  a  sweet  smile. 
"  Clothes  make  so  much  difference  with  a  man." 

San  Miniato  did  not  show  any  annoyance,  but 
he  made  no  direct  answer  and  turned  to  the 
Marchesa. 

"  Marchesa  gentilissima,"  he  said,  "  you  liked 
my  last  excursion,  or  were  good  enough  to  say 
that  you  liked  it.  Would  you  be  horrified  if  I 
proposed  another  for  this  evening  —  but  not  so 
far,  this  time  ? ' ' 

"Absolutely  horrified,"  answered  the  Mar 
chesa.  "But  I  suppose  that  if  you  have  made 
up  your  mind  you  will  bring  those  dreadful  men 
with  their  chair,  like  two  gendarmes,  and  they 
will  take  me  away,  whether  I  like  it  or  not.  Is 
that  what  you  mean  to  do  ? " 

"  Of   course,   dearest  Marchesa,"   he  replied. 


CHILDKEN    OF    THE    KING.  281 

"  Donna  Beatrice  has  taught  me  that  there  is  no 
other  way  of  accomplishing  the  feat.  And  cir- 
tainly  no  other  way  could  give  you  so  little 
trouble." 

"What  is  the  excursion  to  be,  and  where?" 
asked  Beatrice  pretending  a  sudden  interest. 

"  Crab-hunting  along  the  shore,  with  torches. 
It  is  extremely  amusing,  I  am  told." 

"After  horrid  red  things  that  run  sidewise 
and  are  full  of  legs  !  "  The  Marchesa  was  dis 
gusted. 

"  They  are  green  when  they  run  about, 
mamma,"  observed  Beatrice.  "  I  believe  it  is 
the  cooking  that  makes  them  red.  It  will  be 
delightful,"  she  added,  turning  to  San  Miniato. 
"  Does  one  walk  ?" 

"Walk!"  exclaimed  the  Marchesa,  a  new 
horror  rising  before  her  mental  vision. 

"  We  go  in  boats,"  said  San  Miniato.  "  In 
the  sail  boat  first  and  then  in  a  little  one  to  find 
the  crabs.  I  suppose,  Marchesa  carissima,  that 
Donna  Beatrice  may  come  with  me  in  the  skiff, 
under  your  eye,  if  she  is  accompanied  by  your 
maid?" 

"  Of  course,  my  dear  San  Miniato  !     Do  you 


282  CHILDREN"    OF    THE    KING. 

expect  me  to  get  into  your  little  boat  and  hunt 
for  reptiles  ?  Or  do  you  expect  that  Beatrice 
will  renounce  the  amusement  of  getting  wet 
and  covered  with  seaweed  and  thoroughly  un 
presentable  ?  " 

"  And  you,  Donna  Beatrice  ?  Do  you  still 
wish  to  come  ?" 

"Yes.     I  just  said  so." 

"  But  that  was  at  least  a  minute  ago/' 
answered  San  Miniato. 

"  Ah  —  you  think  me  very  changeable  ?  You 
are  mistaken.  I  will  go  with  you  to  find  crabs 
to-night.  Is  that  categorical  ?  Must  you  con 
sult  my  mother  to  know  what  I  mean  ?  " 

"  It  will  not  be  necessary  this  time/'  replied 
the  Count,  quite  unmoved.  "  I  think  we  under 
stand  each  other." 

"  I  think  so/'  said  Beatrice  with  a  hard  smile. 

The  Marchesa  was  not  much  pleased  by  the 
tone  the  conversation  was  taking.  But  if  Bea 
trice  said  disagreeable  things,  she  said  them  in  a 
pleasant  voice  and  with  a  moderately  civil  ex 
pression  of  face,  which  constituted  a  concession, 
after  all,  considering  how  she  had  behaved 
ever  since  the  night  at  Tragara,  scarcely  vouch- 


CHILDREN    OF    THE    KING.  283 

safing  San  Miniato  a  glance,  answering  him  by 
monosyllables  and  Jiardly  ever  addressing  him 
at  all. 

"  My  dear  children/'  said  the  elder  lady, 
affecting  a  tone  she  had  not  assumed  before,  "  I 
really  hope  that  you  mean  to  understand  each 
other,  and  will." 

"  Oh  yes,  mamma !"  assented  Beatrice  with 
alacrity.  "  With  you  to  help  us  I  am  sure  we 
shall  come  to  a  very  remarkable  understanding 
—  very  remarkable  indeed  !  " 

"  With  originality  on  your  side,  and  constancy 
on  mine,  we  may  accomplish  much,"  said  San 
Miniato,  very  blandly. 

Beatrice  laughed  again. 

"  Translate  originality  as  original  sin  and  con 
stancy  as  the  art  of  acting  constantly !  "  she 
retorted. 

"  Why  ?  "  enquired  San  Miniato  without  losing 
his  temper.  He  thought  the  question  would  be 
hard  to  answer. 

"  Why  not  ?  "  asked  Beatrice.  "  You  will  not 
deny  me  a  little  grain  of  original  sin,  will  you  ? 
It  will  make  our  life  so  much  more  varied  and 
amusing,  and  when  I  say  that  you  act  constantly 


284  CHILDREN    OF    THE    KING. 

—  I  only  mean  what  you  said  of  yourself,  that 
you  are  constant  in  your  actions." 

"  You  so  rarely  spare  me  a  compliment,  Donna 
Beatrice,  that  you  must  forgive  me  for  not  hav 
ing  understood  that  one  sooner.  Accept  my 
best  thanks  —  " 

"  And  agree  to  the  expression  of  my  most  dis 
tinguished  sentiments,  as  the  French  say  at  the 
end  of  a  letter,"  said  Beatrice,  rising.  "  And 
now  that  I  have  complimented  everybody,  and 
been  civil,  and  pleased  everybody,  and  have  been 
thanked  and  have  taken  all  the  original  sin  of 
the  party  upon  my  own  shoulders,  I  will  go 
and  have  a  swim  before  breakfast.  Good-bye, 
mamma.  Good-bye,  Count." 

With  a  quick  nod,  she  turned  and  left  them, 
and  went  in  search  of  Teresina,  whose  duty  it 
was  to  accompany  her  to  the  bath.  The  maid 
was  unusually  cheerful,  though  she  had  not 
failed  to  notice  the  change  in  Beatrice's  manner 
which  had  taken  place  since  the  day  of  the 
betrothal,  and  she  understood  it  well  enough,  as 
she  had  told  Bastianello.  Moreover  she  pitied 
her  young  mistress  sincerely  and  hated  San 
Miniato  with  all  her  heart  ;  but  she  was  so 
happy  herself  that  she  could  not  possibly  hide  it. 


CHILDREN    OF    THE    KING.  285 

"  You  are  very  glad  that  I  am  to  be  married, 
Teresina,"  said  Beatrice  as  they  went  out  of  the 
house  together,  the  maid  carrying  a  large  bag 
containing  bathing  things. 

"  I,  Signorina  ?  Do  you  ask  me  the  real  truth  ? 
I  do  not  know  whether  to  be  glad  or  sorry.  I 
pray  you,  Signorina,  tell  me  which  I  am  to  be." 

"  Oh  —  glad  of  course!"  returned  Beatrice 
with  a  bitter  little  laugh.  "A  marriage  should 
always  be  a  matter  for  rejoicing.  Why  should 
you  not  be  glad  —  like  every  one  else  ?  " 

"  Like  you,  Signorina  ? "  asked  Teresina  with 
a  glance  at  the  young  girl's  face. 

"  Yes :  Like  me."  And  Beatrice  laughed 
again  in  the  same  way. 

"  Very  well,  Signorina.  I  will  be  as  glad  as 
you  are.  I  shall  find  it  very  easy." 

It  was  Beatrice's  turn  to  look  at  her,  which 
she  did,  rather  suspiciously.  It  was  clear 
enough  that  the  girl  had  her  doubts. 

"  Just  as  glad  as  you  are,  Signorina,  and  no 
more,"  said  Teresina  again,  in  a  lower  voice,  as 
though  she  were  speaking  to  herself. 

Beatrice  said  nothing  in  answer.  As  they 
reached  the  end  of  the  path  through  the  garden, 


286  CHILDREN    OF    THE    KING. 

they  saw  Ruggiero  and  his  brother  sitting  as 
usual  by  the  porter's  lodge.  Both  got  up  and 
came  quickly  forward.  Bastianello  took  the  bag 
from  Teresina's  hand,  and  the  maid  and  the  two 
sailors  followed  Beatrice  at  a  little  distance  as 
she  descended  the  inclined  tunnel. 

It  was  pleasant,  a  few  minutes  later,  to  lie  in 
the  cool  clear  water  and  look  up  at  the  blue  sky 
above  and  listen  to  the  many  sounds  that  came 
across  from  the  little  harbour.  Beatrice  felt  a 
sense  of  rest  for  the  first  time  in  several  days. 
She  loved  the  sea  and  all  that  belonged  to  it,  for 
she  had  been  born  within  sight  of  it  and  had 
known  it  since  she  had  been  a  child,  and  she 
always  came  back  to  it  as  to  an  element  that 
understood  her  and  which  she  understood.  She 
swam  well  and  loved  the  easy,  fluent  motion  she 
felt  in  the  exercise,  and  she  loved  to  lie  on  her 
back  with  arms  extended  and  upturned  face, 
drinking  in  the  light  breeze  and  the  sunshine 
and  the  deep  blue  freshness  of  sky  and  water. 

While  she  was  bathing  Bastianello  and  Tere- 
sina  sat  together  behind  the  bathing-house,  but 
Ruggiero  retired  respectfully  to  a  distance  and 
busied  himself  with  giving  his  little  boat  a  final 


CHILDREN    OF    THE    KING.  287 

washing,  mopping  out  the  water  with  an  old 
sponge,  which  he  passed  again  and  again  over 
each  spot,  as  though  never  satisfied  with  the 
result.  He  would  have  thought  it  bad  manners 
indeed  to  be  too  near  the  bathing-place  when 
Beatrice  was  in  swimming.  But  he  kept  an  eye 
on  Teresina,  whom  he  could  see  talking  with  his 
brother,  and  when  she  went  into  the  cabin,  he 
knew  that  Beatrice  had  finished  her  bath,  and  he 
found  little  more  to  do  in  cleaning  the  old  tub, 
which  indeed,  to  a  landsman's  eye,  presented  a 
decidedly  smart  appearance  in  her  new  coat  of 
white  paint,  with  a  scarlet  stripe.  When  he 
had  finished,  he  sauntered  up  to  the  wooden 
bridge  that  led  to  the  bathing  cabins  and  sat 
down  on  the  upper  rail,  hooking  one  foot  behind 
the  lower  one.  Bastianello,  momentarily  sepa 
rated  from  Teresina,  carne  and  stood  beside  him. 

"  A  couple  of  fenders  would  save  the  new 
paint  on  her,  if  we  are  going  for  crabs,"  he 
observed,  thoughtfully. 

Ruggiero  made  that  peculiar  side  motion  of 
the  head  which  means  assent  and  approval  in 
the  south. 

"And  we  will  bring  our  own  kettle   for  the 


288  CHILDREN    OF    THE    KING. 

crabs,  and  get  the  milk  from  the  hotel/'  con 
tinued  the  younger  brother,  who  anticipated  an 
extremely  pleasant  evening  in  the  society  of 
Teresina.  "And  I  have  told  Saint  Peter  to 
bring  the  torches,  because  he  knows  where  to 
get  them  good,"  added  Bastianello  who  did  not 
expect  Ruggiero  to  say  anything.  "  What  time 
do  we  go  ?" 

"  Towards  an  hour  and  a  half  of  the  night," 
said  Ruggiero,  meaning  two  hours  after  sunset. 
"  Then  the  padroni  will  have  eaten  and  the  rocks 
will  be  covered  with  crabs,  and  the  moon  will 
not  be  yet  risen.  It  will  be  dark  under  Scutari 
till  past  midnight,  and  the  crabs  will  sit  still 
under  the  torch,  and  we  can  take  them  with  our 
hands  as  we  always  do." 

"  Of  course,"  answered  Bastianello,  who  was 
familiar  with  the  sport,  "  one  knows  that." 

"  And  I  will  tell  you  another  thing,"  continued 
Ruggiero,  who  seemed  to  warm  with  the  subject. 
"  You  shall  pull  stroke  and  I  will  pull  bow. 
In  that  way  you  will  be  near  to  Teresina  and  she 
will  amuse  herself  the  better,  for  you  and  she 
can  take  the  crabs  while  I  hold  the  torch." 

"  And  the  Signorina  and    the  Count  can  sit 


CHILDREN    OF    THE    KING.  289 

together  in  the  stern/'  said  Bastianello,  who 
seemed  much  pleased  with  the  arrangement. 
"  The  best  crabs  are  between  Scutari  and  the 
natural  arch." 

"One  knows  that/'  assented  Ruggiero,  and 
relapsed  into  silence. 

Presently  the  door  of  the  cabin  opened  and 
Beatrice  came  out,  her  cheeks  and  eyes  fresh  and 
bright  from  the  sea.  Of  course  Bastianello  at 
once  ran  to  help  Teresina  wring  out  the  wet 
things  and  make  up  her  bundle,  and  Beatrice 
came  towards  Ruggiero,  who  took  off  his  cap 
and  stood  bareheaded  in  the  sun  as  she  went  by, 
and  then  walked  slowly  behind  her,  at  a  respect 
ful  distance.  To  reach  the  beginning  of  the  as 
cent  they  had  to  make  their  way  through  the 
many  boats  hauled  up  beyond  the  slip  upon  the 
dry  sand.  Beatrice  gathered  her  light  skirt  in 
her  hand  as  she  passed  Ruggiero's  newly  painted 
skiff,  for  she  was  familiar  enough  with  boats  to 
know  that  the  oil  might  still  be  fresh. 

"  It  is  quite  dry,  Excellency,"  he  said.  "  The 
boat  belongs  to  me." 

Beatrice  turned  with  a  smile,  looked  at  it  and 
then  at  Ruggiero. 


290  CHILDREN    OF    THE    KING. 

"What  did  I  tell  you  the  other  day,  Rug- 
giero  ?  "  she  asked,  still  smiling.  "  You  were  to 
call  me  Signorina.  Bo  you  remember  ?  " 

"  Yes,  Signorina.     I  beg  pardon." 

Beatrice  saw  that  Teresina  had  not  yet  left 
the  cabin  with  her  bag,  and  that  Bastianello  was 
loitering  before  the  door,  pretending  or  really 
trying  to  help  her. 

"  Do  you  know  what  Teresina  has  been  telling 
me,  Ruggiero  ? "  asked  Beatrice,  stopping  entirely 
and  turning  towards  him  as  they  stood  in  the 
narrow  way  between  Kuggiero's  boat  and  the 
one  lying  next  to  her. 

"Of  Bastianello,  Signorina?" 

"  Yes.  That  she  wants  to  marry  him.  She 
told  me  while  I  was  dressing.  You  know  ?  " 

"  Yes,  Signorina,  and  I  laughed  when  he  told 
me  the  story  the  other  day,  over  there  on  the 
pier." 

"  I  heard  you  laughing,  Ruggiero,"  answered 
Beatrice,  remembering  the  unpleasant  impression 
she  had  received  when  she  had  looked  down 
from  the  terrace.  His  huge  mirth  had  come  up 
as  a  sort  of  shock  to  her  in  the  midst  of  her 
own  trouble.  "  Why  did  you  laugh  ?  "  she  asked. 


CHILDREN    OF    THE    KING.  291 

"  Must  I  tell  you,  Signorina  ?" 

«  Yes." 

"It  was  this.  Bastianello  had  a  thought. 
He  imagined  to  himself  that  I  loved  Teresina  — 
I!  —  " 

Ruggiero  broke  off  in  the  sentence  and  looked 
away.  His  voice  shook  with  the  deep  vibration 
that  sometimes  pleased  Beatrice.  He  paused  a 
moment  and  then  went  on. 

"  I,  who  have  quite  other  thoughts.  And  so 
he  said  with  himself,  '  Ruggiero  loves  and  is 
afraid  to  speak,  but  I  will  speak  for  him.'  But 
it  was  honest  of  him,  Signorina,  for  he  loved 
her  himself.  And  so  he  asked  her  for  me  first. 
But  she  would  not.  And  then,  between  one  word 
and  another,  they  found  out  that  they  loved. 
And  I  am  very  glad,  for  Teresina  is  a  good  girl 
as  she  showed  the  other  day  in  the  garden,  and 
the  little  boy  of  the  Son  of  the  Fool  saw  it 
when  she  threw  the  gold  at  that  man's  feet  —  " 

He  stopped  again,  suddenly  realising  what 
he  was  saying.  But  Beatrice,  quick  to  suspect, 
saw  the  look  of  pained  embarrassment  in  his 
face  and  almost  guessed  the  truth.  She  grew 
pale  by  degrees. 


292  CHILDREN    OF    THE    KING. 

"What  man?"  she  asked  shortly. 

Ruggiero  turned  his  head  and  looked  away 
from  her,  gazing  out  to  seaward. 

"  What  was  the  man's  name  ? "  she  asked 
again  with  the  stern  intonation  that  anger 
could  give  her  voice. 

Still  Ruggiero  would  not  speak.  But  his 
white  face  told  the  truth  well  enough. 

"On  what  day  was  it?"  she  enquired,  as 
though  she  meant  to  be  answered. 

"  It  was  the  day  when  you  talked  with  me 
about  my  name,  Signorina." 

"At  what  time?" 

"  It  must  have  been  between  midday  and  one 
o'clock." 

Beatrice  remembered  how  on  that  day  San 
Miniato  had  given  a  shallow  excuse  for  not 
remaining  to  breakfast  at  that  hour. 

"And  what  was  his  name?"  she  now  asked 
for  the  third  time. 

"  Excellency  —  Signorina  —  do  not  ask  me  !  " 
Ruggiero  was  not  good  at  lying. 

"  It  was  the  Conte  di  San  Miniato,  Ruggiero/' 
said  Beatrice  in  a  low  voice  that  trembled  with 


CHILDREN    OF    THE    KING.  293 

anger.  Her  face  was  now  almost  as  white  as 
the  sailor's. 

Ruggiero  said  nothing  at  first,  but  turned  his 
head  away  again. 

"  Per  Dio  !  "  he  ejaculated  after  a  short  pause. 
But  there  was  no  mistaking  the  tone. 

Beatrice  turned  away  and  with  bent  head 
began  to  walk  towards  the  ascent.  She  could 
not  help  the  gesture  she  made,  clenching  her 
hands  once  fiercely  and  then  opening  them  wide 
again  •  but  she  thought  no  one  could  see  her. 
Ruggiero  saw,  and  understood. 

"  She  is  saying  to  herself,  '  I  must  marry  that 
infamous  animal,'  "  thought  Ruggiero.  "  But  I 
do  not  think  that  she  will  marry  him." 

At  the  foot  of  the  ascent,  Beatrice  turned 
and  looked  back.  Teresina  and  Bastianello 
were  coming  quickly  along  the  little  wooden 
bridge,  but  Ruggiero  was  close  to  her. 

"  You  have  not  done  me  a  good  service  to 
day,  Ruggiero,"  she  said,  but  kindly,  dreading 
to  wound  him.  "  But  it  is  my  fault,  and  I 
should  not  have  pressed  you  as  I  did.  Do  not 
let  the  thought  trouble  you." 


294  CHILDREN    OF    THE    KING. 

"I  thank  you,  Signorina.  And  it  is  true  that 
this  was  not  a  good  service,  and  I  could  bite  out 
my  tongue  because  it  was  not.  But  some  Saint 
may  give  me  grace  to  do  you  one  more,  and  that 
shall  be  very  good." 

"  Thank  you,  Ruggiero,"  said  Beatrice,  as  the 
maid  and  the  other  sailor  came  up. 


CHAPTER  XII. 

BEATRICE  did  not  speak  again  as  she  slowly 
walked  up  the  steep  ascent  to  the  hotel.  Bas- 
tianello  and  Teresina  exchanged  a  word  now 
and  then  in  a  whisper  and  Ruggiero  came  last, 
watching  the  dark  outline  of  Beatrice's  graceful 
figure,  against  the  bright  light  which  shone  out 
side  at  the  upper  end  of  the  tunnel.  Many  con 
fused  thoughts  oppressed  him,  but  they  were  like 
advancing  and  retreating  waves  breaking  about 
the  central  rock  of  his  one  unalterable  purpose. 
He  followed  Beatrice  till  they  reached  the  door 
of  the  house.  Then  she  turned  and  smiled  at 
him,  and  turned  again  and  went  in.  Bastianello 
of  course  carried  the  bag  upstairs  for  Teresina, 
and  Ruggiero  stayed  below. 

He  was  very  calm  and  quiet  throughout  that 
day,  busying  himself  from  time  to  time  with 
some  detail  of  the  preparations  for  the  evening's 
excursion,  but  sitting  for  the  most  part  alone, 
far  out  on  the  breakwater  where  the  breeze  was 

295 


296  CHILDREN    OF    THE    KING. 

blowing  and  the  light  surf  breaking  just  high 
enough  to  wet  his  face  from  time  to  time  with 
line  spray.  He  had  made  up  his  mind,  and  he 
calmly  thought  over  all  that  he  meant  to  do, 
that  it  might  be  well  done,  quickly  and  surely, 
without  bungling.  To-morrow,  he  would  not  be 
sitting  out  there,  breathing  in  the  keen  salt  air 
and  listening  to  the  music  of  the  surging  water, 
which  was  the  only  harmony  he  had  ever  loved. 

His  was  a  very  faithful  and  simple  nature,  and 
since  he  had  loved  Beatrice,  it  had  been  even 
further  simplified.  He  thought  only  of  her,  he 
had  but  one  object,  which  was  to  serve  her,  and 
all  he  did  must  tend  to  the  attainment  of  that 
one  result.  Now,  too,  he  had  seen  with  his  eyes 
and  had  understood  in  other  ways  that  she  was  to 
be  married  against  her  will  to  a  man  she  hated 
and  despised,  and  who  was  already  betraying  her. 
He  did  not  try  to  understand  how  it  all  was,  but 
his  instinct  told  him  that  she  had  been  tricked 
into  saying  the  words  she  had  spoken  to  San  Mi- 
niato  at  Tragara,  and  that  she  had  never  meant 
them.  That  at  least  was  more  comprehensible 
to  him  than  it  might  have  been  to  a  man  of 
Beatrice's  own  class.  Her  head  had  been  turned 


CHILDREN    OF    THE    KING.  297 

for  a  moment,  as  Ruggiero  would  have  said,  and 
afterwards  she  had  understood  the  truth.  He  had 
heard  many  stories  of  the  kind  from  his  compan 
ions.  Women  were  changeable,  of  course.  Every 
one  knew  that.  And  why  ?  Because  men  were 
bad  and  tempted  them,  and  moreover  because 
they  were  so  made.  He  did  not  love  Beatrice  for 
any  moral  quality  she  might  or  might  not  possess, 
he  was  far  too  human,  and  natural  and  too  little 
educated  to  seek  reasons  for  the  passion  that 
devoured  him.  Since  he  felt  it,  it  was  real. 
What  other  proof  of  its  reality  could  he  need  ? 
It  never  entered  his  head  to  ask  for  any,  and  his 
heart  would  not  have  beaten  more  strongly  or 
less  rudely  for  twenty  reasons,  on  either  side. 

And  now  he  was  strangely  happy  and  strangely 
calm  as  he  sat  there  by  himself.  Beatrice  could 
never  love.  him.  The  mere  idea  was  absurd 
beyond  words.  How  could  she  love  a  common 
man  like  himself  ?  But  she  did  not  love  San 
Miniato  either,  and  unless  something  were  done 
quickly  she  would  be  forced  into  marrying  him. 
Of  course  a  mother  could  make  her  daughter 
marry  whom  she  pleased.  Ruggiero  knew  that. 
The  only  way  of  saving  Beatrice  was  to  make  an 


298  GHILDKEN    OF    THE    KING. 

end  of  San  Miniato,  and  that  was  a  very  simple 
matter  indeed.  Sari  Miniato  would  be  but  a  poor 
tiling  in  those  great  hands  of  Ruggiero's,  though 
he  was  a  well  grown  man  and  still  young  and 
certainly  stronger  than  the  average  of  fine  gentle 
men. 

Of  course  it  was  a  great  sin  to  kill  San  Mini 
ato.  Murder  was  always  a  sin,  and  people  who 
did  murder  and  died  unabsolved  always  went 
straight  into  eternal  fire.  But  the  eternal  fire 
did  not  impress  Ruggiero  much.  In  the  first 
place  Beatrice  would  be  free  and  quite  happy  on 
earth,  and  in  the  natural  course  of  things  would 
go  to  Heaven  afterwards,  since  she  could  have 
no  part  whatever  in  San  Miniato's  destruction. 
Secondly,  San  Miniato  would  be  with  Ruggiero 
in  the  flames,  and  throughout  all  eternity  Rug 
giero  would  have  the  undying  satisfaction  of 
having  brought  him  there  without  any  one's 
help.  That  would  pay  for  any  amount  of  burn 
ing,  in  the  simple  and  uncompromising  view  of 
the  future  state  which  he  took. 

So  he  sat  on  the  block  of  stone  and  listened 
to  the  sea  and  thought  it  all  over  quietly,  feel 
ing  very  happy  and  proud,  since  he  was  to  be 


CHILDREN    OF    THE    KING.  299 

the  means  of  saving  the  woman  he  loved. 
What  more  could  any  man  ask,  if  he  could  not 
be  loved,  than  to  give  his  soul  and  his  body  for 
such  a  good  and  just  end  ?  Perhaps  Ruggiero's 
way  of  looking  at  the  present  and  future  state 
might  have  puzzled  more  than  one  theologian  on 
that  particular  afternoon. 

While  Ruggiero  was  deciding  matters  of  life 
and  death  in  his  own  way,  with  absolute  cer 
tainty  of  carrying  out  his  intentions,  matters 
were  not  proceeding  smoothly  on  the  Marchesa's 
terrace.  The  midday  breakfast  had  passed  off 
fairly  well,  though  Beatrice  had  again  grown 
silent,  and  the  conversation  was  carried  on  by 
San  Miniato  with  a  little  languid  help  from  the 
Marchesa.  The  latter  was  apparently  neither 
disturbed  nor  out  of  humour  in  consequence  of 
the  little  scene  which  had  taken  place  in  the 
morning.  She  took  a  certain  amount  of  oppo 
sition  on  Beatrice's  part  as  a  matter  of  course, 
and  was  prepared  to  be  very  long-suffering  with 
the  girl's  moods,  partly  because  it  was  less 
trouble  than  to  do  battle  with  her,  and  partly 
because  it  was  really  wiser.  Beatrice  must 
grow  used  to  the  idea  of  marriage  and  must  be 


300  CHILDREN    OF    THE    KING. 

gradually  accustomed  to  the  daily  companion 
ship  of  San  Miniato.  The  Marchesa,  in  her 
wisdom,  was  well  aware  that  Beatrice  would 
never  see  as  much  of  him  when  he  was  her  hus 
band  as  she  did  now  that  they  were  only  en 
gaged.  San  Miniato  would  soon  take  up  his  own 
life  of  amusement  by  day  and  night,  in  his  own 
fashion,  and  Beatrice  on  her  side  would  form 
her  own  friendships  and  her  own  ties  as  best 
pleased  her,  subject  only  to  occasional  interfer 
ence  from  the  Count,  when  he  chanced  to  be  in 
a  jealous  humour,  or  when  it  happened  that 
Beatrice  was  growing  intimate  with  some  lady 
who  had  once  known  him  too  well. 

After  breakfast,  as  usual,  they  drank  coffee 
and  smoked  upon  the  terrace,  which  Beatrice 
was  beginning  to  hate  for  its  unpleasant  asso 
ciations.  Before  long,  however,  she  disappeared, 
leaving  her  mother  and  San  Miniato  together. 

The  latter  talked  carelessly  and  agreeably  at 
first,  but  insensibly  led  the  conversation  to  the 
subject  of  money  in  general  and  at  last  to  the 
question  of  Beatrice's  marriage  settlement  in 
particular.  He  was  very  tactful  and  would 
probably  have  reached  this  desired  point  in  the 


CHILDREN    OF    THE    KING.  301 

conversation  in  spite  of  the  Marchesa,  had  she 
avoided  it.  But  she  was  in  the  humour  to  dis 
cuss  the  matter  and  let  him  draw  her  on  without 
opposition.  She  had  thought  it  all  over  and  had 
determined  what  she  should  do.  San  Miniato 
was  surprised,  and  not  altogether  agreeably,  by 
her  extreme  clearness  of  perception  when  they 
actually  arrived  at  the  main  discussion. 

"  You  are  aware,  San  Miniato  mio,"  she  was 
saying,  "  that  my  poor  husband  was  a  very  rich 
man,  and  you  are  of  course  familiar  —  you  who 
know  everything  —  with  the  laws  of  inheritance 
in  our  country.  As  our  dear  Beatrice  is  an  only 
child,  the  matter  would  have  been  simple,  even 
if  he  had  not  made  a  will.  I  should  have  had 
my  widow's  portion  and  she  would  have,  had  all 
the  rest,  as  she  ultimately  will." 

"  Of  course,  dearest  Marchesa.  I  understood 
that.  But  it  is  most  kind  of  you  to  tell  me 
about  the  details.  In  Beatrice's  interest  —  and 
her  interests  will  of  course  be  my  first  concern  in 
life  —  " 

"  Of  course,  carissimo,"  said  the  Marchesa,  in 
terrupting  him.  "  Can  I  doubt  it  ?  Should  I 
have  chosen  you  out  of  so  many  to  be  my  son- 


302  CHILDREN    OF    THE    KING. 

in-law  if  I  had  not  understood  from  the  first 
all  the  nobility  and  uprightness  of  your  fine 
character  ?  " 

"How  good  you  are  to  me !  "  exclaimed  San 
Miniato,  who  mistrusted  the  preamble,  but  was 
careful  not  to  show  it. 

"  Not  at  all,  dear  friend  !  I  am  never  good. 
It  is  such  horrible  trouble  to  be  either  good  or 
bad,  as  you  would  know  if  you  had  my  nerves. 
But  we  were  speaking  of  my  poor  husband's 
will.  One  half  of  his  fortune  of  course  he  was 
obliged  to  leave  to  his  daughter.  He  could  dis 
pose  of  the  other  half  as  he  pleased.  I  believe 
it  was  that  admirable  man,  the  first  Napoleon, 
who  invented  that  just  law,  was  it  not  ?  Yes,  I 
was  sure.  My  husband  left  the  other  half  to 
me,  provided  I  should  not  marry  —  he  was  a 
very  thoughtful  man  !  But  if  I  did,  the  money 
was  to  go  to  Beatrice  at  once.  If  I  did  not, 
however,  I  was  —  as  I  really  am  —  quite  free  to 
dispose  of  it  as  I  pleased." 

"  How  very  just!  "  exclaimed  San  Miniato, 

"  Do  you  think  so  ?  Yes.  But  further,  I  wish 
to  tell  you  that  he  set  aside  a  sum  out  of  what 
he  left  Beatrice,  to  be  her  dowry  —  just  a  trifle, 


CHILDREN    OF    THE    KING.  303 

you  know,  to  be  paid  to  her  husband  on  the 
marriage,  as  is  customary.  But  all  the  remain 
der,  compared  with  which  the  dowry  itself  is 
insignificant,  does  not  pass  into  her  hands  until 
she  is  of  age,  and  of  course  remains  entirely  in 
her  control." 

"  I  understand,"  said  San  Miniato  in  a  tone 
which  betrayed  some  nervousness  in  spite  of  his 
best  efforts  to  be  calm,  for  he  had  assuredly  not 
understood  before. 

"  Of  course  you  understand,  dearest  friend," 
answered  the  Marchesa.  "  You  are  so  clever  and 
you  have  such  a  good  head  for  affairs,  which  I 
never  had.  I  assure  you  I  never  could  under 
stand  anything  about  money.  It  is  all  so  mys 
terious  and  complicated!  Give  me  one  of  your 
cigarettes,  I  am  quite  exhausted  with  talking." 

"  I  think  you  do  yourself  injustice,  dearest 
Marchesa,"  said  San  Miniato,  offering  her  his 
open  case.  "  You  have,  I  think,  a  remarkably 
good  understanding  for  business.  I  really  envy 
you." 

The  Marchesa  smiled  languidly,  and  slowly 
inhaled  the  smoke  from  the  cigarette  as  he  held 
the  match  for  her. 


304  CHILDREN    OF    THE    KING. 

"  I  have  no  doubt  you  learned  a  great  deal 
from  the  Marchese,"  continued  San  Miniato. 
"  I  must  say  that  he  displayed  a  keenness  for  his 
daughter's  interests  such  as  merits  the  sincerest 
admiration.  Take  the  case,  which  happily  has 
not  arisen,  dearest  friend.  Suppose  that  Bea 
trice  should  discover  that  she  had  married  a  mere 
fortune-hunter.  The  man  would  be  entirely  in 
your  power  and  hers.  It  is  admirably  ar 
ranged." 

"  Admirably/'  assented  the  Marchesa  without 
a  smile.  "  It  would  be  precisely  as  you  say. 
Beyond  a  few  hundred  thousand  francs  which 
he  would  control  as  the  dowry,  he  could  touch 
nothing.  He  would  be  wholly  dependent  on  his 
wife  and  his  mother-in-law.  You  see  my  dear 
husband  wished  to  guard  against  even  the  most 
improbable  cases.  How  thankful  I  am  that 
heaven  has  sent  Beatrice  such  a  man  as  you!" 

"  Always  good !  Always  kind !  "  San  Miniato 
bent  his  head  a  little  lower  than  was  necessary 
as  he  looked  at  his  watch.  He  had  something 
in  his  eyes  which  he  preferred  to  hide. 

Just  then  Beatrice's  step  was  heard  on  the 
tiled  floor  of  the  sitting-room,  and  neither  the 


CHILDREN    OF    THE    KING.  305 

Marchesa  nor  San  Miniato  thought  it  worth  while 
to  continue  the  conversation  with  the  danger  of 
being  overheard. 

So  the  afternoon  wore  on,  bright  and  cloudless, 
and  when  the  air  grew  cool  Beatrice  and  her 
mother  drove  out  together  along  the  Massa  road, 
and  far  up  the  hill  towards  Sant'  Agata.  They 
talked  little,  for  it  is  not  easy  to  talk  in  the 
rattling  little  carriages  which  run  so  fast  behind 
the  young  Turkish  horses,  and  the  roads  are  not 
always  good,  even  in  summer.  But  San  Miniato 
was  left  to  his  own  devices  and  went  and  bathed, 
walking  out  into  the  water  as  far  as  he  could 
and  then  standing  still  to  enjoy  the  coolness. 
Ruggiero  saw  him  from  the  breakwater  and 
watched  him  with  evident  interest.  The  Count, 
as  has  been  said  before,  could  not  swim  a  stroke, 
and  was  probably  too  old  to  learn.  But  he  liked 
the  sea  and  bathing  none  the  less,  as  Ruggiero 
knew.  He  stayed  outside  the  bathing-house 
fully  half  an  hour,  and  then  disappeared. 

"  It  was  not  worth  while,"  said  Ruggiero  to 
himself,  "since  you  are  to  take  another  bath  so 


soon." 


Then   he  looked   at  the  sun  and  saw  that  it 


306  CHILDREN    OF    THE    KING. 

lacked  half  an  hour  of  sunset,  and  he  went  to  see 
that  all  was  ready  for  the  evening.  He  and 
Bastianello  launched  the  old  tub  between  them, 
and  Ruggiero  ballasted  her  with  two  heavy  sacks 
of  pebbles  just  amidships,  where  they  would  be 
under  his  feet. 

"  Better  shift  them  a  little  more  forward," 
said  Bastianello.  "  There  will  be  three  pas 
sengers,  you  said." 

"  We  do  not  know,"  answered  Ruggiero.  "  If 
there  are  three  I  can  shift  them  quickly  when 
every  one  is  aboard." 

So  Bastianello  said  nothing  more  about  it, 
and  they  got  the  kettle  and  the  torches  and 
stowed  them  away  in  the  bows. 

"  You  had  better  go  home  and  cook  supper," 
said  Ruggiero.  "  I  will  come  when  it  is  dark, 
for  then  the  others  will  have  eaten  and  I  will 
leave  two  to  look  out." 

Bastianello  went  ashore  on  the  pier  and  his 
brother  pulled  the  skiff  out  till  he  was  alongside 
of  the  sailboat,  to  which  he  made  her  fast.  He 
busied  himself  with  trifles  until  it  grew  dark  and 
there  was  no  one  on  the  pier.  Then  he  got  into 
the  boat  again,  taking  a  bit  of  strong  line  with 


CHILDREN    OF    THE    KING.  307 

him,  a  couple  of  fathoms  long,  or  a  little  less. 
Stooping  down  he  slipped  the  line  under  the 
bags  of  ballast  and  made  a  timber-hitch  with  the 
end,  hauling  it  well  taut.  With  the  other  end 
he  made  a  bowline  round  the  thwart  on  which 
he  was  sitting,  and  on  which  he  must  sit  to  pull 
the  bow  oar  in  the  evening.  He  tied  the  knot 
wide  enough  to  admit  of  its  running  freely  from 
side  to  side  of  the  boat,  and  he  stowed  the  bight 
between  the  ballast  and  the  thwart,  so  that  it 
lay  out  of  sight  in  the  bottom.  The  two  sacks 
of  pebbles  together  weighed,  perhaps,  from  a 
half  to  three-quarters  of  a  hundredweight. 

When  all  was  ready  he  went  ashore  and 
shouted  for  the  Cripple  and  the  Son  of  the  Fool, 
who  at  once  appeared  out  of  the  dusk,  and  were 
put  on  board  the  sailboat  by  him.  Then  he 
pulled  himself  ashore  and  moored  the  tub  to  a 
ring  in  the  pier.  It  was  time  for  supper.  Bas- 
tianello  would  be  waiting  for  him,  and  Ruggiero 
went  home. 

As  the  evening  shadows  fell,  Beatrice  was 
seated  at  the  piano  in  the  sitting-room  playing 
softly  to  herself  such  melancholy  music  as  she 
could  remember,  which  was  not  much.  It  gave 


308  CHILDREN    OF    THE    KING. 

her  relief,  however,  for  she  could  at  least  try 
and  express  something  of  what  would  not  and 
could  not  be  put  into  words.  She  was  not  a 
musician,  but  she  played  fairly  well,  and  this 
evening  there  was  something  in  the  tones  she 
drew  from  the  instrument  which  many  a  musi 
cian  might  have  envied.  She  threw  into  her 
touch  all  that  she  was  suffering  and  it  Was  a 
faint  satisfaction  to  her  to  listen  to  the  lament 
of  the  sad  notes  as  she  struck  them  and  they 
rose  and  fell  and  died  away. 

The  door  opened  and  San  Miniato  entered. 
She  heard  his  footstep  and  recognised  it,  and  im 
mediately  she  struck  a  succession  of  loud  chords 
and  broke  into  a  racing  waltz  tune. 

"  You  were  playing  something  quite  different, 
when  I  came  to  the  door,"  he  said,  sitting  down 
beside  her. 

"  I  thought  you  might  prefer  something  gay," 
she  answered  without  looking  at  him  and  still 
playing  on. 

San  Miniato  did  not  answer  the  remark,  for 
he  distrusted  her  and  fancied  she  might  have  a 
retort  ready.  Her  tongue  was  often  sharper  than 
he  liked,  though  he  was  not  sensitive  on  the  whole. 


CHILDREN    OF    THE    KING.  309 

"  Will  you  sing  something  to  me  ?  "  he  asked, 
as  she  struck  the  last  chords  of  the  waltz. 

"  Oh  yes,"  she  replied  with  an  alacrity  that 
surprised  him.  "  I  feel  rather  inclined  to  sing. 
Mamma,"  she  cried,  as  the  Marchesa  entered  the 
room,  "I  am  going  to  sing  to  my  betrothed.  Is 
it  not  touching?" 

"  It  is  very  good  of  you,"  said  San  Miniato. 

The  Marchesa  smiled  and  sank  into  a  chair. 
Beatrice  struck  a  few  chords  and  then,  looking 
at  the  Count  with  half  closed  eyes,  began  to 
sing  the  pathetic  little  song  of  Chiquita. 

"  On  dit  que  Ton  te  marie 
Tu  sais  que  j'eii  vais  mourir  — " 

Her  voice  was  very  sweet  and  true  and  there 
was  real  pathos  in  the  words  as  she  sang  them. 
But  as  she  went  on,  San  Miniato  noticed  first 
that  she  repeated  the  second  line,  and  then  that 
she  sang  all  the  remaining  melody  to  it,  singing 
it  over  and  over  again  with  an  amazing  variety 
of  expression,  angrily,  laughingly,  ironically  and 

sadly. 

"  —  Tu  sais  que  j'en  vais  mourir  ! " 

she  ended,  with  a  strange  burst  of  passion. 


310  CHILDREN    OF    THE    KING. 

She  rose  suddenly  to  her  feet  and  shut  the  lid 
down  sharply  upon  the  key-board. 

"  How  perfectly  we  understand  each  other,  do 
we  not?"  she  said  sweetly,  a  moment  later,  and 
meeting  San  Miniato's  eyes. 

"I  hope  we  always  shall,"  he  answered  quietly, 
pretending  not  to  have  understood. 

She  left  him  with  her  mother  and  went  out 
upon  the  terrace  and  looked  down  at  the  black 
water  deep  below  and  at  the  lights  of  the  yachts 
and  the  far  reflections  of  the  stars  upon  the 
smooth  bay,  and  at  the  distant  light  on  Capo 
Miseno.  The  night  air  soothed  her  a  little,  and 
when  dinner  was  announced  and  the  three  sat 
down  to  the  table  at  the  other  end  of  the  ter 
race  her  face  betrayed  neither  discontent  nor 
emotion,  and  she  joined  in  the  conversation 
indifferently  enough,  so  that  San  Miniato  arid 
her  mother  thought  her  more  than  usually 
agreeable. 

At  the  appointed  time  the  two  porters  ap 
peared  with  the  Marchesa's  chair,  and  Teresina 
brought  in  wraps  and  shawls,  quite  useless  on 
such  a  night,  and  the  little  party  left  the  room 
in  procession,  as  they  had  done  a  few  days  ear- 


CHILDREN    OF    THE    KING.  311 

Her  when  they  started  for  Tragara.  But  their 
mood  was  very  different  to-night.  Even  the 
Marchesa  forgot  to  complain  and  let  herself  be 
carried  down  without  the  least  show  of  resist 
ance.  On  the  first  excursion  none  of  them  had 
quite  understood  the  other,  and  all  of  them 
except  poor  Kuggiero  had  been  in  the  best  of 
humours.  Now  they  all  understood  one  another 
too  well,  and  they  were  silent  and  uneasy  when 
together.  They  hardly  knew  why  they  were 
going,  and  San  Miniato  almost  regretted  hav 
ing  persuaded  them.  Doubtless  the  crabs  were 
numerous  along  the  rocky  shore  and  they  would 
catch  hundreds  of  them  before  midnight.  Doubt 
less  also,  the  said  crustaceans  would  be  very 
good  to  eat  on  the  following  day.  But  no  one 
seemed  to  look  forward  to  the  delight  of  the 
sport  or  of  the  dish  afterwards,  excepting 
Teresina  and  Bastianello  who  whispered  to 
gether  as  they  followed  last.  Ruggiero  went 
in  front  carrying  a  lantern,  and  when  they 
reached  the  pier  it  was  he  who  put  the  party 
on  board,  made  the  skiff  fast  astern  of  the  sail 
boat  and  jumped  upon  the  stern,  himself  the  last 
of  all. 


312  CHILDREN    OF    THE    KING. 

The  night  breeze  was  blowing  in  gusts  off  the 
shore,  as  it  always  does  after  a  hot  day  in  the 
summer,  and  Ruggiero  took  advantage  of  every 
puff  of  wind,  while  the  men  pulled  in  the  inter 
vals  of  calm.  The  starlight  was  very  bright 
and  the  air  so  clear  that  the  lights  of  Naples 
shone  out  distinctly,  the  beginning  of  the  chain 
of  sparks  that  lies  like  a  necklace  round  the  sea 
from  Posilippo  to  Castellamare.  The  air  was 
soft  and  dry,  so  that  there  was  not  the  least 
moisture  on  the  gunwale  of  the  boat.  Every 
one  was  silent. 

Then  on  a  sudden  there  was  a  burst  of  music. 
San  Miniato  had  prepared  it  as  a  surprise,  and 
the  two  musicians  had  passed  unnoticed  where 
they  sat  in  the  bows,  hidden  from  sight  by  the 
foresail  so  soon  as  the  boat  was  under  way. 
Only  a  mandolin  arid  a  guitar,  but  the  best 
players  of  the  whole  neighbourhood.  It  was 
very  pretty,  and  the  attempt  to  give  pleasure 
deserved,  perhaps,  more  credit  than  it  received. 

"  It  is  charming,  dearest  friend !  "  was  all  the 
Marchesa  vouchsafed  to  say,  when  the  perform 
ers  paused. 

Beatrice  sat  stony  and  unmoved,  and  spoke 


CHILDREN    OF    THE    KING.  313 

no  word.  She  said  to  herself  that  San  Miniato 
was  again  attempting  to  prepare  the  scenery 
for  a  comedy,  and  she  could  have  laughed  to 
think  that  he  should  still  delude  himself  so 
completely.  Teresina  would  have  clapped  her 
hands  in  applause  had  she  dared,  but  she  did 
not,  and  contented  herself  with  trying  to  see 
into  Bastianello's  eyes.  She  was  very  near  him 
as  she  sat  furthest  forward  in  the  stern-sheets 
and  he  pulled  the  starboard  stroke  oar,  leaning 
forward  upon  the  loom,  as  the  gust  filled  the 
sails  and  the  boat  needed  no  pulling. 

"  You  do  not  care  for  the  mandolin,  Donna 
Beatrice  ? "  said  San  Miniato,  with  a  sort  of 
disappointed  interrogation  in  his  voice. 

"  Have  I  said  that  I  do  not  care  for  it  ? " 
asked  the  young  girl  indifferently.  "  You  take 
too  much  for  granted." 

Grim  and  silent  on  the  stern  sat  Ruggiero, 
the  tiller  in  his  hand,  his  eye  on  the  dark  water 
to  landward  constantly  on  the  look-out  for  the 
gusts  that  came  down  so  quickly  and  which  could 
deal  treacherously  with  a  light  craft  like  the  one 
he  was  steering.  But  he  had  no  desire  to  upset 
her  to-night,  nor  even  to  bring  the  tiller  down 


314  CHILDREN    OF    THE    KING. 

on  his  master's  head.  There  was  to  be  no  bung 
ling  about  the  business  he  had  in  hand,  no 
mistakes  and  no  wasting  of  lives. 

The  mandolin  tinkled  and  the  guitar 
strummed  vigorously  as  they  neared  Scutari 
point,  vast,  black  and  forbidding  in  the  star 
light.  But  a  gloom  had  settled  upon  the  party 
which  nothing  could  dispel.  It  was  as  though 
the  shadow  of  coming  evil  had  overtaken  them 
and  were  sweeping  along  with  them  across  the 
dark  and  silent  water.  There  was  something 
awful  in  the  stillness  under  the  enormous  bluff, 
as  Ruggiero  gave  the  order  to  stop  pulling  and 
furl  the  sails,  and  he  himself  brought  the  skiff 
alongside  by  the  painter,  got  in  and  kept  her 
steady,  laying  his  hand  upon  the  gunwale  of 
the  larger  boat.  Bastianello  stood  up  to  help 
Beatrice  and  Teresina. 

"  Will  you  come,  Donna  Beatrice  ? "  asked 
San  Miniato,  wishing  with  all  his  heart  that  he 
had  never  proposed  the  excursion. 

It  seemed  absurd  to  refuse  after  coming  so  far 
and  the  young  girl  got  into  the  skiff,  taking 
Ruggiero' s  hand  to  steady  herself.  It  did  not 
tremble  to-night  as  it  had  trembled  a  few  days 


CHILDREN    OF    THE    KING.  315 

ago.  Beatrice  was  glad,  for  she  fancied  that  he 
was  recovering  from  his  insane  passion  for  her. 
Then  San  Miniato  got  over,  rather  awkwardly  as 
he  did  everything  so  soon  as  he  left  the  land. 
Then  Teresina  jumped  down,  and  last  of  all 
Bastianello.  So  they  shoved  off  and  pulled 
away  into  the  deep  shadow  under  the  bluffs. 
There  the  cliff  rises  perpendicularly  seven  hun 
dred  feet  out  of  the  water,  deeply  indented  at 
its  base  with  wave-worn  caves  and  hollows,  but 
not  affording  a  fast  hold  anywhere  save  on  the 
broad  ledge  of  the  single  islet  of  rock  from 
which  a  high  natural  arch  springs  suddenly 
across  the  water  to  the  abrupt  precipice  which 
forms  the  mountain's  base. 

Calmly,  as  though  it  were  an  every-day  excur 
sion,  Ruggiero  lighted  a  torch  and  held  it  out 
when  the  boat  was  alongside  of  the  rocks,  show 
ing  the  dark  green  crabs  that  lay  by  dozens  motion 
less  as  though  paralysed  by  the  strong  red  glare. 
And  Bastianello  picked  them  off  and  tossed  them 
into  the  kettle  at  his  feet,  as  fast  as  he  could 
put  out  his  hands  to  take  them.  Teresina  tried, 
too,  but  one  almost  bit  her  tender  fingers  and 
she  contented  herself  with  looking  on,  while 


316  CHILDREN    OF    THE    KING. 

San  Miniato  and  Beatrice  silently  watched  the 
proceedings  from  their  place  in  the  stern. 

Little  by  little  Ruggiero  made  the  boat  follow 
the  base  of  the  precipice,  till  she  was  under  the 
natural  arch. 

"Pardon,  Excellency/' he  said  quietly,  "but 
the  foreigners  think  this  is  a  sight  with  the 
torches.  If  you  will  go  ashore  on  the  ledge,  I 
will  show  it  you." 

The  proposal  seemed  very  natural  under  the 
circumstances,  and  as  the  operation  of  picking 
crabs  off  the  rocks  and  dropping  them  into  a 
caldron  loses  its  interest  when  repeated  many 
times,  Beatrice  immediately  assented. 

The  larger  boat  was  slowly  following  and  the 
tinkle  of  the  mandolin,  playing  waltz  music, 
rang  out  through  the  stillness.  Ruggiero 
brought  the  skin0  alongside  of  the  ledge  where  it 
was  lowest. 

"  Get  ashore,  Bastianello,"  he  said  in  the  same 
quiet  tone.  Bastianello  obeyed  and  stood  ready 
to  help  Beatrice,  who  came  next. 

As  she  stepped  upon  the  rock  Ruggiero 
raised  the  torch  high  with  one  hand,  so  that  the 
red  light  fell  strong  and  Ml  upon  her  face, 


CHILDKEN    OF    THE    KING.  317 

and  he  looked  keenly  at  her,  his  eyes  fixing 
themselves  strangely,  as  she  could  see,  for  she 
could  not  help  glancing  down  at  him  as  she  stood 
still  upon  the  ledge. 

"  Now  Teresina,"  said  Ruggiero,  still  gazing 
up  at  Beatrice. 

Teresina  grasped  Bastianello's  hand  and  sprang 
ashore,  happy  as  a  child  at  the  touch.  San 
Miniato  was  about  to  follow  and  had  already 
risen  from  his  seat.  But  with  a  strong  turn  of 
his  hand  Ruggiero  made  the  stern  of  the  skiff 
swing  out  across  the  narrow  water  that  is  twenty 
fathoms  deep  between  the  mountain  and  the 
islet. 

"What  are  you  doing?"  asked  San  Miniato 
impatiently.  "  Let  me  land  !  " 

But  Ruggiero  pushed  the  boat's  head  off  and 
she  floated  free  between  the  rocks. 

"  You  and  I  can  take  a  bath  together,"  said 
the  sailor  very  quietly.  "  The  water  is  very 
deep  here." 

San  Miniato  started.  There  was  a  sudden 
change  in  Ruggiero 's  face. 

"  Land  me  !  "  cried  the  Count  in  a  command 
ing  tone. 


318  CHILDREN    OF    THE    KING. 

"  In  hell !  "  answered  the  sailor's  deep  voice. 

At  the  same  moment  he  dropped  the  torch, 
and  seizing  the  bags  of  ballast  that  lay  between 
his  feet,  hove  them  overboard,  springing  across 
the  thwarts  towards  San  Miniato  as  he  let  them 
go.  The  line  slipped  to  the  side  as  the  heavy 
weight  sank  and  the  boat  turned  over  just  as  the 
strong  man's  terrible  fingers  closed  round  his 
enemy's  throat  in  the  darkness.  San  Miniato' s 
death  cry  rent  the  still  air  —  there  was  a  little 
splashing,  and  all  was  done. 

So  I  have  told  my  tale,  such  as  it  is,  how 
Kuggiero  of  the  Children  of  the  King  gave  him 
self  body  and  soul  to  free  Beatrice  Granmichele 
from  a  life's  bondage.  She  wore  mourning  a 
whole  year  for  her  affianced  husband,  but  the 
mourning  in  her  heart  was  for  the  strong,  brave, 
unreasoning  man,  who,  utterly  unloved,  had 
given  all  for  her  sake,  in  this  world  and  the 
next. 

But  when  the  year  was  over,  Bastianello  mar 
ried  Teresina,  and  took  her  to  the  home  he  had 
made  for  her  by  the  sea  —  a  home  in  which  she 
should  be  happy,  and  in  which  at  least  there  can 


CHILDREN    OF    THE    KING.  319 

never  be  want,  for  Beatrice  has  settled  money 
on  them  both,  and  they  are  safe  from  sordid 
poverty,  at  all  events. 

The  Marchesa's  nerves  were  terribly  shaken 
by  the  tragedy,  but  she  has  recovered  wonder 
fully  and  still  fans  herself  and  smokes  countless 
cigarettes  through  the  long  summer  afternoon. 

Of  those  left,  Bastianello  and  Beatrice  are  the 
most  changed  —  both,  perhaps,  for  the  better. 
The  sailor  is  graver  and  sterner  than  before,  but 
he  still  has  the  gentleness  which  was  never  his 
brother's.  Beatrice  has  not  yet  learned  the 
great  lesson  of  love  in  her  own  heart,  but  she 
knows  and  will  never  forget  what  love  can  grow 
to  be  in  another,  for  she  has  fathomed  its  deepest 
depth. 

And  now  you  will  tell  me  that  Ruggiero  did 
wrong  and  was  a  great  sinner,  and  a  murderer, 
and  a  suicide,  and  old  Luigione  is  sure  that  he 
is  burning  in  unquenchable  fire.  And  perhaps 
he  is,  though  that  is  a  question  neither  you  nor 
I  can  well  decide.  But  one  thing  I  can  say  of 
him,  and  that  you  cannot  deny.  He  was  a 
man,  strong,  whole-hearted,  willing  to  give  all, 
as  he  gave  it,  without  asking.  And  perhaps  if 


320  CHILDREN    OF    THE    KING. 

some  of  us  could  be  like  Ruggiero  in  all  but  his 
end,  we  should  be  better  than  we  are,  and  truer, 
and  more  worthy  to  win  the  love  of  woman  and 
better  able  to  keep  it.  And  that  is  all  I  have 
to  say.  But  when  you  stand  upon  the  ledge  by 
Scutari,  if  you  ever  say  a  prayer,  say  one  for 
those  two  who  suffered  on  that  spot.  Beatrice 
does  sometimes,  though  no  one  knows  it,  and 
prayers  like  hers  are  heard,  perhaps,  and 
answered. 


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DON  ORSINO. 

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JANET'S  HOME. 
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A  DOUBTING  HEART. 
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A  YORK   AND   LANCASTER   ROSE. 

BY  D.  CHRISTIE   MURRAY. 

Few  modern  novelists  Can  tell  a  story  of  English  country  life  better  than   Mr.  D. 
Christie  Murray.  —  Spectator. 

AUNT  RACHEL.  |  THE  WEAKER  VESSEL. 

SCHWARZ. 


BY   MRS.   OLIPHANT. 

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At  her  best  she  is,  with  one  or  two  exceptions,  the  best  of  living  English  novelists.  — 
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BY  J.   H.  SHORTHOUSE. 

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BLANCHE,  LADY  FALAISE. 
JOHN  INGLESANT. 
SIR  PERCIVAL. 


THE  COUNTESS  EVE. 
A  TEACHER  OF  THE  VIOLIN. 
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MARK. 


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(The  Author  of  "John  Halifax,  Gentleman.") 

LITTLE  SUNSHINE'S  HOLIDAY.         I  ALICE  LEARMONT. 
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BY   MRS.  HUMPHRY  WARD. 

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extraordinary  rapidity  an  enduring  reputation  as  one  who  has  expressed  what  is  deepest 
and  most  real  in  the  thought  of  the  time.  .  .  .  They  are  dramas  of  the  time  vitalized 
by  the  hopes,  fears,  doubts,  and  despairing  struggles  after  higher  ideals  which  are  sway 
ing  the  minds  of  men  and  women  of  this  generation.  — New  York  Tribune. 

ROBERT  ELSMERE.  |  THE  HISTORY  OF  DAVID  GRIEVE. 

MILLY  AND  OLLY. 

BY  RUDYARD   KIPLING. 

Every  one  knows  that  it  is  not  easy  to  write  good  short  stories.  Mr.  Kipling  has 
changed  all  that.  Here  are  forty  of  them,  averaging  less  than  eight  pages  apiece  ;  there 
is  not  a  dull  one  in  the  lot.  Some  are  tragedy,  some  broad  comedy,  some  tolerably  sharp 
satire.  The  time  has  passed  to  ignore  or  undervalue  Mr.  Kipling.  He  has  won  his  spurs 
and  taken  his  prominent  place  in  the  arena.  This,  as  the  legitimate  edition,  should  be 
preferred  to  the  pirated  ones  by  all  such  as  care  for  honesty  in  letters.  —  Churchman, 
New  York. 

PLAIN  TALES  FROM  THE  HILLS.      [  LIFE'S  HANDICAP. 


BY  AMY   LEVY. 

REUBEN  SACHS. 

BY   M.   McLENNAN. 

MUCKLE  JOCK,  AND  OTHER  STORIES. 
3 


BY  THOMAS   HUGHES. 

TOM    BROWN'S    SCHOOLDAYS.          i  RUGBY,  TENNESSE. 
Illustrated. 


BY  ROLF  BOLDREWOOD. 

Mr.  Boldrewood  can  tell  what  he  knows  with  great  point  and  vigour,  and  there  is  no 
better  reading  than  the  adventurous  parts  of  his  books.  —  Saturday  Review. 

ROBBERY  UNDER  ARMS.  |  NEVERMORE. 

SYDNEY-SIDE  SAXON. 


BY  SIR   HENRY  CUNNINGHAM,  K.C.I.E. 

Interesting  as  specimens  of  romance,  the  style  of  writing  is  so  excellent  —  scholarly 
and  at  the  same  time  easy  and  natural  —  that  the  volumes  are  worth  reading  on  that 
account  alone.  But  there  is  also  masterly  description  of  persons,  places,  and  things; 
skilful  analysis  of  character;  a  constant  play  of  wit  and  humour;  and  a  happy  gift  of 
instantaneous  portraiture.  —  St.  James's  Gazette. 

THE  CCERULEANS:    A  VACATION  IDYLL. 


BY  GEORGE  GISSING. 

We  earnestly  commend  the  book  for  its  high  literary  merit,  its  deep  bright  interest, 
and  for  the  important  and  healthful  lessons  that  it  teaches.  —  Boston  Home  Journal. 

DENZIL  QUARRIER. 

BY  W.  CLARK  RUSSELL. 

The  descriptions  are  wonderfully  realistic  .  .  .  and  the  breath  of  the  ocean  is  over 
and  through  every  page.  The  plot  is  very  novel  indeed,  and  is  developed  with  skill  and 
tact.  Altogether  one  of  the  cleverest  and  most  entertaining  of  Mr.  Russell's  many 
works.  —  Boston  Times. 

A  STRANGE  ELOPEMENT. 

BY  THE  HON.  EMILY   LAWLESS. 

It  is  a  charming  story,  full  of  natural  life,  fresh  in  style  and  thought,  pure  in  tone,  and 
refined  in  feeling.  —  Nineteenth  Century. 

A  strong  and  original  story.  It  is  marked  by  originality,  freshness,  insight,  a  rare 
graphic  power,  and  as  rare  a  psychological  perception.  It  is  in  fact  a  better  story  than 
"  Hurrish,"  and  that  is  saying  a  good  deal.  —  New  York  Tribune. 

GRANIA  :  THE  STORY  OF  AN  ISLAND. 
4 


BY  A  NEW  AUTHOR. 

We  should  not  be  surprised  if  this  should  prove  to  be  the  most  popular  book  of  the 
present  season;  it  cannot  fail  to  be  one  of  the  most  remarkable.  —  Literary  World. 

TIM  :   A  STORY  OF  SCHOOL  LIFE. 


BY  LANOE  FALCONER. 

(Author  of  "Mademoiselle  Ixe.") 

It  is  written  with  cleverness  and  brightness,  and  there  is  so  much  human  nature  in  it 
that  the  attention  of  the  reader  is  held  to  the  end.  .  .  .  The  book  shows  far  greater 
powers  than  were  evident  in  "  Mademoiselle  Ixe,"  and  if  the  writer  who  is  hidden  behind 
the  nom  de  guerre  Lanoe  Falconer  goes  on,  she  is  likely  to  make  for  herself  no  incon 
siderable  name  in  fiction.  —  Boston  Courier. 

CECILIA  DE  NOEL. 


BY  THE  REV.  PROF.  ALFRED  J.  CHURCH. 

Rev.  Alfred  J.  Church,  M.A.,  has  long  been  doing  valiant  service  in  literature  in 
presenting  his  stories  of  the  early  centuries,  so  clear  is  his  style  and  so  remarkable  his 
gift  of  enfolding  historical  events  and  personages  with  the  fabric  of  a  romance,  enter 
taining  and  oftentimes  fascinating.  .  .  .  One  has  the  feeling  that  he  is  reading  an  accu 
rate  description  of  real  scenes,  that  the  characters  are  living  -so  masterly  is  Profess 
Church's  ability  to  reclothe  history  and  make  it  as  interesting  as  a  romance.  —  Bost 
Times. 

Just  ready. 


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THEOCRITUS,  BION,  AND 
MOSCHUS.  In  English  Prose. 
By  ANDREW  LANG,  M.A. 

BALLADEN  UND  ROMANZEN. 
Edited  by  C.  A.  BUCHHEIM,  Ph.D. 

LYRIC  LOVE.  Edited  by  WILLIAM 
WATSON. 

HYMNS  AND  OTHER  POEMS. 
By  F.  T.  PALGRAVE. 

THE  ART  OF  WORLDLY  WIS 
DOM.  BALTHASAS  GRACIAN. 


MACMILLAN   &   CO., 

112    FOURTH   AVENUE,    NEW  YORK. 
8 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 
BERKELEY 

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